Poetry

Identity ravaged in snow dust; 
now I am writing my name 
in water. 
 
It was not my time, 
not yours. We play like 
saddened kids today - 
 
under wounds of stars. 
I beseech the sky to wash 
the tainted roses. 
 
Where do I go now, to find 
the stolen kisses of moon - 
after I was sick of hot sun. 
 
Take away all the blue letters 
from my sleeves. I have 
dropped the links.