The Walk

She strolls through the bright fields of my soul,
spiritual fields of celestial plants
which have white suns attached to their stems
as their flowers,
petals of sunlight.

Her fingers grip the fiery flowers,
picking them,
and she tears each burning petal off,
she destroys my soul
asking whether I love her or not,
she will not stop until she has
picked the petals
of all those illuminating flowers,
dismembered all those suns,
leaving the celestial plains of my heart
in utter darkness,
leaving the spiritual fields of my soul
barren.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s