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Maybe it's time to release my petals to the wind

Maybe it's time to release my petals to the wind and let music make pearl castles.. (Caption..) Now all my skies are different. Yes, as you hear it, can't you see the flags that rumble on my sailboats? Now, every dawn looks at me with different eyes, maybe it's just me, nebula. Now, every morning indigo furrow oceans without tears, without daggers of blood. Now look at my chest; still, keeping verses, kisses, sunny palm trees. Now if you lean on my hands I'll tell you what the eyes of the moon talk about. Now in the body of the bonfires you can slowly slide down the throat of those wolves that agonize to pour their orange blossoms on the mantle that clouds their irises. Now my mane will decide to be poetry that blows truths to the souls, to the lagoons. Now all the stars will fit In my ribs, they will destroy the cages of my skin. Now I'll forget about my lips because what do I want them to whisper for when it is enough for me to bite each desert with my chest to make it peach swarm. Now I'll forget about my mouth because why do I want it to confess to me when it is my dawn that sows oils slowly over every faded flower. I don't understand every line of my hands, I do not understand the dance of my waves, I don't know what my looks are about, much less than I write on my veins.
Maybe it's time to release my petals to the wind and let music make pearl castles.. (Caption..) Now all my skies are different. Yes, as you hear it, can't you see the flags that rumble on my sailboats? Now, every dawn looks at me with different eyes, maybe it's just me, nebula. Now, every morning indigo furrow oceans without tears, without daggers of blood. Now look at my chest; still, keeping verses, kisses, sunny palm trees. Now if you lean on my hands I'll tell you what the eyes of the moon talk about. Now in the body of the bonfires you can slowly slide down the throat of those wolves that agonize to pour their orange blossoms on the mantle that clouds their irises. Now my mane will decide to be poetry that blows truths to the souls, to the lagoons. Now all the stars will fit In my ribs, they will destroy the cages of my skin. Now I'll forget about my lips because what do I want them to whisper for when it is enough for me to bite each desert with my chest to make it peach swarm. Now I'll forget about my mouth because why do I want it to confess to me when it is my dawn that sows oils slowly over every faded flower. I don't understand every line of my hands, I do not understand the dance of my waves, I don't know what my looks are about, much less than I write on my veins.
shivansh7038

Shivansh

New Creator