The poems raped; words killed, home burnt....

Decked in azure mascara and purple nail paint, bold night awaits the return of the colour flamboyant....
They all who got drenched in the rain, they all who claimed to have measured the pain;
Do they know that turn on the road, where a painted heart was cheaply sold?
The secrets, the bleached bones of a story so layered; of a heart that was once desired....
The poems raped; words killed, home burnt....

.... The lonely prey walked from there; conch shells, wind chimes and blank stares,
Whistle of the ship from the long lost past; those scarlet days paid with blames and rust....
Rust coloured songs and a rust sour smell; is all that you get if you believe in fairy tales.
Fairies leave, fairies vanish and fairies fade ....the heart left for the demons to trade.
The poems raped; words killed, home burnt....

Scarlet days that were woven with bliss, bubbles and roses and clouds and kiss....
The river still flows inside the heart; the prey has now learnt how to act of mirth.
The sheets new, the doors latched, the bed shared ....but the scars never stripped;
Strangers come, strangers go ....nobody knows, nobody will ever know....
The poems raped; words killed, home burnt....

Counting heartaches in the head, old violin floats on the dead, on the red....
The azure mascara is just another coat; the river in the heart still has a paper boat,
The black eyes melt, breakup, makeup, dust.... rotten flesh and some more rust....
The songs tainted, no solace anymore; the prey is quiet from the deepest core....
The poems raped; words killed, home burnt....

The time pass lovers, the time pass losers, the strangers in the night,
Changes every day, and the sky is littered with so many new kites....
But that kite running soul who painted a dream, of passion, of mists, of colours, of hue....
What happened to it? Who knows? Neither me nor you....
The poems raped; words killed, home burnt....