Ink glorified, lens extravagances and
the brains made it magnificent.
The prototypes were admired,
Beyond time and lives.
Seldom thought it'll be alive,
Nor revered it for real.
In the abyss of the beats,
And deep of the thoughts,
Longed for it secretly.
'It' brought me to it.
Tediously, yet gracefully.
The 'sunshine' lightened up,
My tenebrious heart.
Was my world and above,
Were my burning stars,
In the darkest sky.
Was my beloved song,
Of the eternal playlist.
Had the deepest voice,
that called to time travel.
Was the 'mirror' ; assonant,
But the opposite,
Was the host of dreams,
I would be visitant.
Was the 'it' of mine,
For 'it' was the most,
Beautiful. Incredible.poignant
And writhing.
'It' was love.
63 Suns and 'it' burned.
Then I smoked the clouds,
drunk the oceans
And the pain.
It stayed.
I killed 'it' and it killed me.
The 'mirror' was lonely.
