by Syka Wryts
Somewhere in the orchids field,
Lays a drenched body.
A gloomy soul that swam through all the chaos!
A breath to take.
The breeze of freedom,
That freezes the rage of being a jilt.
..."What if you don't feel the guilt?
..."What if pleasure is all you taste?"
"A plugged flower, a dying rose",
"A shredded feather, a broken bird
I do jump in the canny pool,
'#killed by a shark ‘_blogs of mockery!"
''I deserve no love, I am bounded by my body,
Not my heart; thus, I lie in the field of orchids,
Dreaming of a farmhouse, with a daffodil field,
A wind of peace I feel.
My lover hands me a cup of tea."
"A smell of the herbs; lightens my face"
In streams of thoughts,
the drenched body drowns.
A sharp knife cuts deep through the vein and
The red blood glides into the orchid’s root.
The tears held slide freely to the ground
"In cloud cuckoo land, the songbird sings,
la,la,la…humming my peace song.
In my rocking chair, I sip my cup of tea,
Watching the sun rise on the field.
I am covered with the kisses of my lover.
How it is to be loved and to receive love"
The shimmery eyes close...
A melancholy wind blows over the field
And the orchids dance the dirge of a jilt
Who never accepted the lover,
For the heart loved another.
My name is Syka Wryts, and i am 22 years. I love to write, read and capture my imagination into images using words.