#Poetry ‘The Dying Flame of Love’ by Fiza Pathan

The Dying Flame of Love

By Fiza Pathan

The moon filters its moody white dove rays into the bosom of my soul;

The city neon lights have left me cold like the blood dripping from my wrist wound in red blossoms rare.

For this love is not a delight but a tragic note upon the flute,

You walked away and I forgot how to play the notes.

Your memory takes away the logic from my reasoning

And the excuses towards an execution of pain;

Love is without echoes as it is a silent moan to the heart,

It rents the chest of its vital force, as the darkness covers my form in agonizing throbs in embrace.

You have taken away my self-control and have let the dew drops of the morning drown my late vigil nights for your return,

I wear a black satin dress to carry the torch in flame bright,

Not to show myself so sad but to cling to a dying flame that needs nurturing.

P8055334.JPG By mconnors

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