By Selene Vina
Cliffs of prudent pegasus lurch over the hedges, a distant memory in my thoughts, gravity itself is a messiah, a daisy growing up the lawns of the reaper's castle, revitalizing in the redness of yesterday's widow's
Glass shards glittered golden under Mary's Shadow
Red and blue in the radio lights, carom boards of whiskey lit caramel, fluttering in a balayage of fragrant mistakes
Coconut skies and brandy pardons lit in a moonstone anklet, beads drenched in the dewdrop of winter's coffee
Remembralls dipped in cranbury milk, people swarming over a caricature of molded grass, dim mulberry lights in freezers of escapism, lead me to my conclusions of ecstacy
'Darling you're my soul's keeper' He said, his eyes lost in my own, his eyelashes marking springs of cold dewdrop against my own, Clashed in desert runes of passion, like the Grape vines of modern Evangelism, strung on the songs of fireflies, covered in singing light, the Angelus of the Muses, His eyes a flicker of a ghost as I strum myself in eklavia
The mudras align my thoughts of live brocades into a pedestal of rose painted in tamanna
My eyes glow in tranquility, this rush of hypothermia I feel upon unleashing my asura,
Like Kali Ma grudging Shiva's presence in Callousness
The anklets around my feet become lighter in prophecy, combing each area of my heart I find it, secluded in the icy parlours of the arctic, snow falls on my eyelashes, crystallizing the view before me, the ice glitters in the faint maestro of the sun
The sequins of life are moist and dark brown, like the oaks of purgatory, the custard blue flowers at the heart of the trees collect memories floating in the air, already lost to me
Paraphelia in the sunlight mist scores the midnight oil from me, the inner corners of my head are serene, radiated from the moonlight
Moonlight is a dream, enamored by the unconscious love from the sky, the blue hues of night drew the stars in constantinople, the italian balls of glory are further from the moon, visions of swans in mastaani only blow kisses to their winds, The Pacific harbours the for meaning creatures of venus, apsaras, enchanters of oysters, capriciously known, forever lost or lost to none their spell dries the glaciers of Kaikeyi's Past, a diadem in Mohini's arm, the sirens glaze the skies purple of Dussehra, christmas lights in a sky of crushed limelights, momentous gazes line back at me, my face remains paradigm, an openness in the water signals my blood, the pariah underneath the surface gazes back at me, I dive , ambrosia and nectar burn my lungs, Vitamins and Proteins of the destitute moon mother, my skin is soft and fluffy, cloudless in the porous world, mystical to the colors of race and time
Princesses of thyme do not fear the soul of the stars, the grace of the brocade imbuing the shroud embraces them
Fear is a revolution in hearts of magic, keeping those of staplers and cajole at war and those of Selene and Psyche at their throne
Selene Vina is a writer and poet who publishes her works of poetry on her Instagram. Vina has completed seventeen years living on this planet. She lives in the Emirate of Dubai of the United Arab Emirates. She engages her time in reading; she specializes in gothic literature, fantasy, and fiction. She likes to thrift clothes to reduce her role in capitalism and adores writing poetry in the raven's hours of the night. She is an Indian who loves incorporating her culture into poetry and plans to establish representation for South-Indian WOC in the Literary World.
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