Dredging up vague memory of our past,
a glass of Mojito,
we smooched to slushy ballads.
Squared up our shoulders,
the curdling air made us freeze,
I plucked a Plumeria and putting it behind your right year,
a farewell gift, deluged with heart-broken pains.
Splitting our favorite desserts Horse hooves in half,
as if you were sitting there, unaware of
the flow of soft and lilting melody jiggled its way,
had been creating a burst blood vessel in my eyes.
Drenched in self-pity and deep remorse,
your ethereal face was disappearing somewhere
with a plume of smoke into the firmament.
Prometheus carrying fire with Fennel,
a hero you have been so much adored.
A spearmint, injured in the stampede of tormented ordeal
in the turbulent world, to me
you are the purple Coneflower.
Borage in the chalice,
invincible to any blows and threats.
With the Snapdragon, my concealed identity,
the spirits once kindled, never easily surrendered,
shall return to our rendezvous,
by the small rivulet.
Published on September 1st, 2022
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