The Violin of Love #poem #poetry #prose poem

The air is still like the minutes before confession. The cloak shrouds me. On the second breath of the Easter of Roses I walk to the outskirts of your love. A violin exults fires upon darkness. In one single stoke your passion consumes and shuns me. The chambers of my heart resound. Reds prevent you … Continue reading The Violin of Love #poem #poetry #prose poem