for once the bruising stars cry a haunting melody /
sighing of a bygone tune /
dreaming of artistic blues /
pressed between pages of a dusky muse /
of records and vinyls and fables //

the poison laced chronicle of star crossed lovers /
painted on walls of covert rendezvous /
it wrought apart kingdoms, a masterpiece of burning cities and flaming nobles //

Yet when the sunset came to dusk, maybe their love was not enough //

he had ballads
wrapped in his golden curls /
rhythms dripping from
strands swept carelessly over his forehead /
and a melodic trance in his gaze / secrets whelved under his silver teeth and threatened to spill
over his raspberry lips like spider-webbing
sea foam /
his fire, so palpable,
burnt his lungs till he coughed up his own ashes /
rivulets of red-hot syllables sizzled on his tongue /
leaving scorches of sour aftertaste //

Lost in her whirlwind
he was a playlist of tragedies
that sparked as rapturous bronze /
she looked at stars
with such fondness /
he inhaled Molotov skies /
drunk the cosmic essence /
dusted his spine with galaxies /
till he became the chaos
and the peace //

sublime as she was
she crushed his heart so tenderly
he never realized when his sanity
was tainted and drenched //

redundancy, he was told,
is when you say something so
many times it loses sense /
so he chanted her name
till his arteries knotted
his throat burnt
his eyes stung
his wrists slit
a kingdom burnt //

when sunset came to dusk
their love was just not enough /
but they still whisper the legend /
in neglected corners of
abandoned museums //

for it was a masterpiece
of tapestries and men
who haunt them //