Enter the mystical realms of colour scheme.
Black and white, the sky has died and bled on our purple dreams.
The throat of the moon, white as a stork, dirty as a feather and delicate as a heart.
A cluster of lukewarm stars in the sky hiding it’s beloved scars.
Footprints on the sand, shimmering tides, the ocean has given its long due reply.
In nature’s hand, as I understand was a message to call me nigh.
I awake from a desperate dream in an inviting radium forest.
Glowing scars, in the dark, my tomb held me at my sorest.
© Aniket More