November Wordsworth

 "foot steps" a nightmare of fear days darker and nights louder happiness folds under my feet beneath soles sorrow unfolds at every thought peace froths like a bubble  esteem pops   along flights over avenues  left only in the past was i scathed footstep symphonies thoracic drum beats squeals and slams "dare not scream" in between my legs the pains are gone still in the heart and daily meals are pills tears never to dry aches of endless symptoms  of a forever syndrome why me, why you uncle? novemberwordsworth *woes of somber hearts* ©2023

  Beyond the blurry edges at extreme ends of my focal length over the far left panorama sights cinematic lights flash in clash with flares writhed off a shiny skin behold I her in a splash and sited next is her next betroth smiling in ignorance of what his immediate destiny holds a bouquet of scathes just like that  I've been gnarled in over the years. Wryly she smiles away her heart thous of miles away in a way she used to smile at me with her bright glistening denture at a swift paranormal juncture  as he falls for her juicy charisma helplessly sighs in surrender softly carried on in whimpers of the arrears of an upaid love  in a futile debenture. A sensational arrow by ceaserian cuts through my upper chest skin deviating slightly away from  the hard forky rib cage over to my throbing heart  blessing it with raven kisses  leaving it behind with, only glens of incisions slightly missing out on the cortex of my left kidney touching the lower end of my spine.  And now they are doing

Our love story begins a time and moment I let you go a day I walk through that back door footsteps marked by trails of driblets feelings over brims of my entrails spilt all around like grains of sand sinking down like sands of time a one way ticket trip to greyscales haunted shadows of our phobias. The wind seems colder out here quite reclessier in your absentia I hold fingers out for a search stroll over tips and nibs of broken pencils  only a brash but not a droplet of ink with ink from a lachrymal fountain I cast lashes and strokes of driblets adroitly tracing your pretty face into a tear stained painting.    Everyday I stand in front of a mirror is a Halloween it's freaky Friday glancing at my own reflectance I see not less than a fierce archer thrilled more than I'm lost in dread and the unprecedented nightmares  to see my other self with own hands tearing down all that we've built  turning everything around me into a world of broken dreams. Now that I've known not

 Along sunset street sprees  we walk nether silver skylines blinky street lights glistening over empty parks and sidewalks littered by falling autumn leaves  covered in a weak fading haze listening to gloomy lullabies  played by dusty rusty piano keys synchronous to symphonies of distorted old steam train hoots. Beneath your beautiful  under flares of shiny eyelashes  we shine agile smiles in brusque your tender little fingers fit for the nature of my palmistry made just for each other like male to female slots in sleight  grips by tips, slightly so tight like spanner bolts to nuts we right the fault in our stars.  Along banks of calm waters lazy bubbles froth among pebbles cast stones for ducks and drakes stones skipping with no brakes hovering over a silver surface giving birth to endless ripples shiny cheeks head over chest our hearts tell tales in slangs,  tales known only to hearts that fell once into love before.  In essence of fading day light,  reflectance as seen in a mirror 

 I met you my moon underneath shadows of a noon where windy chills calm to room cluelessly, I traded betrothal for doom a bequeath in a boom like ka boom a little bit too soon. Just like a full moon you killed not the dark, but unveiled the beauty of the night shining your glistening glimmer overflowing in ornaments and incenses we traded whispers for whimpers. Tons of giliter added over beauty in it's immenseness when I had not a thing to offer before a taste of the flavor of your lips I gave a heart away for collateral battered for an apple of an eye. As time goes around the clock hours fold into days, days of a moon gone to hiding behind the clouds apples turned into onions of eyes after dusk in the sharpest of nights where the brightest of stars never shines. Like a candle that melts down to wax blown by anxious winds in the night a river of tears streams down my cheeks like logs split by axe blades of steel I can feel something inside me shatter  and the pieces of that thing s

 Ostensibly, it all feels like; "I've known voices of the wind  and maybe all it's journeys,  it's melodies of melancholy that ears may never hear  blowing passed blooming faces of those who only feel it's soothe but not the inconsolable sobs it carries on from faces of those  who can't even remember how  and when they last smiled, those to whom happiness is just a dream." I've got great feelings, of acquaintance with  every falling droplet of rain,  vehemently hiting the ground  splitting into thousands of  other splashes of driblets and all the autumn leaves floating on waves of headwinds  I feel every single pain in their voices  on their journeys set for demise I find my self reciting rythimic surahs into melodic euological verses,  for the friends gone too soon.  With no moon, I'm stuck in my own realm nary a wanning crescent  with a bunch of wistful emotions cracking tales down told by burning flames whispering to their smoke yet though shini