The way ,
valleys of
your hazel eyeballs
twinkled with enough
glimmer to light
up cremation of
my splintered feelings .
And when your limbs glided
across the creased fibres
of my shivered clamoring,
which occured in that room with grubby
and blood stained walls , the
walls which still echo the
sweet lullaby of my
dead mother,
made me think you
are the one who's going to
embrace the aculeous scion,
the same scion which
was composed of compelling
yet virulent symphonies .
And I saw my premise
turning into...