Where Else My Poetry Falls

Dead girl's charm, I kissed her forehead, I remembered the touch of decayed flowers of last spring, she carried all  in her bags to understand death. She tried and she understood death is not the cruellest gambler loving is the absurdity we create in the end, we destroy everything with sorrow and grief that when you can release love out of your life. And death is never a stranger it is always a part of you.

October sky, what an awful delight, Suspicious, they might be, maybe later. The clouds of the dying daylight, They are slower than the wind, They are lighter than the colour I keep in my veins to shed later. In every shade, they are doing, Homicide fantasies without blood drops. Two persons should die every day, The sun and me, because I shed tears for them. even I try to colour them with my few blood drops like I used to color my skin before.