Through pink escapades and bitter
Delirium my winter slowly fades,
Knocking whomsoever in chilly raids.
I look upon trees whose dead branches
Slowly climb the clear azure, making flames
More beautiful than faces and the wind whistles
Through ashen fireplaces of human dust.
The heart was a fireplace that
Needed assurance.
‘Words, you charmer.’ She said.
Yet, she condoned her needs
And went away swiftly like
Frivolous paper boats in
The Danube (Rivulet of Queens?).
Through pink escapades and bitter
Delirium my winter slowly fades
Sifting for her in the land of half-dead,
Alive or dead.
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