Poetry

It was to happen
from known to unknown,
sibylline hands held the head.

This was my first
love to catch the tears of moon.
Honey drips. From where bees come?

After I gained you in light,
I lost you again in deep dark.
Birth of venus was rehearsed.

Why did you paint
your name on forehead to
attract the dying desire?

The poetry decides the
fate of falling star on the hey,
before you burn your port.