Limerence

Roses starve in the greenhouses like sheltered children, Wicked yet beautiful. 
Their contradiction is a fate clinging to the divine, It pains me, this envy 
Not lonely, not wicked,  
beautiful and shunned. 

Blue nights were heavenly and frail 
As Apostasy. 
As a soul weathering, 
chipping, boxed in, nearing its end. 

Lingering and fragrant,  
what a marvel, this cherished, whispered pain, 
Yielding and beckoning, 
like a labyrinth of lilies in a valley. 

Forgotten charms and intangible touches, 
With Eternal truths of vigil bounded by black sounds, subservient vessels of doubt and apathy, still roams with
time, Un-withering in ivory illusion.
Soulless virgin realities, 
Of ephemeral innocence and fantasies decay. 
Unwanted land’s embrace, 
And faith erodes, exhausting the link to the world, As time holds no weight here, seconds are the same as yours.