You're beautiful, but you're not true.

you're beautiful, but you're not true.

lip-locked with a dream,
you tasted of moonlight.

a vibrato of the senses
once touched by the ethereal.

a song by the crackling fire,
and perfect obsidian sleep.

a lullaby scented of summer
and pine cones;
and of doors of rain.

but just like that,
you're beautiful, but you're not true.

----
conceptualised from fragments of Ginsberg, Aldiss and Gaiman; written during the journey between Pune and Mumbai.

untitled #5

and we meet
in a garden of words,
separated by a palindrome
of emotions
which will never come to pass.
reflected on rainbow puddles
and across sing song clouds
in dewdrops and pond side dreams,
scattered syllables of
secret smiles
and sidelong glances.

till the rainsmith is gone
and static fills every empty nook
that rain brushed cobblestones
left behind.

----
this one's totally inspired by the movie Garden of Words. and the rains of course.