Cosmos.

Apr, 30th 21.

Everything loss, we were dross

Clean ashes in wilderness

Yelled out promises on empty mess

Aren’t we mate? man said yess

Nothing changed yet love gone less

Desultory indeterminate, ephemeral of us

He whispered intricate, like a ‘cool patch pumpkins’

A motley flower resemblance his goddess

Here’s amorist string up sum letters

Memories of two human madness

When Chimera devastated her loveseat

Where she could hide from defeat

She puts broken glass on the mug

Bring it a pieces through her throat

Face downward, she ends snug

Once at the moment a woman retired

Getting lowered in the grave

Her ‘cosmos’ resurgence from dead

Red eyes, skins torn, worn out sleeve