Mourning short poem

Photo by frakokot

Igniting my virtue, my soul you thrive,
With ambience of mourning, we love and cry,
Pulp of the essence, drafting the power,
I miss your presence, each second, each hour,
Enchanting my poignance, with love in eye,
Compassion as your vice, loving wet and dry,
You merge my vengeance, with shining dime,
And gift me poison, with love each time,
I miss your caress, since you touched and left,
And lost my glory, in your arms of theft,
This pressed me petite, dragging warm in well,
In my heart you live, in soul you dwell,
Going ways to destroy, your glimpse is divine,
Holy gestures I envisage, in bulk of shrines,
Your rapport of commanding, me to swim,
My vulnerability of falling, and holding your skin,
Your heart’s approval, scarce in claim,
My wounds are kissed, with your love’s name,
I love the pious, spoken and lying,
Your love in a bottle, sealed and dying.

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Pooja Srivastava

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I'm a poet, novel writer and editor in chief of the upcoming magazine Al Da Beatz. Writing and photography have been my ever-long passion.
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Loved your writing style. Expecting more to come…


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