Painting : 'A Lane in Headingley,Leeds' (1881) by John Atkinson Grimshaw
It was all about blues.
Oceans,heaven,ashes and umbilical cords.
And poetry.And suicides.
Silver thorns of bloody roses.
And of the virgin snow.
For if a wish ever is granted
For once,I would ask for the ability
To reminisce the forgotten.
I have no pride
But that of an artist's
Put in an undeserving soul
Battling across shells and motion
In crippling serendipity
That plagues stardust
It was all about plagues
And blood,and swords
Until you came in
Until blues infused their bodies
To melodies
In exchange of what never was theirs.
In exchange of your helpless eyes
Light years away from now.
Here,now and then.
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