The Last Word

The Last Word

 

Marigolds are white,

Roses are red,

As red as her damp lips,

The glimmer in her eyes,

the spark in her heart,

were igniting fiercely,

like an ember on fire.

 

Her words were slurred,

As if they were not heard,

They were spoken by mind,

But were unacceptable to the heart.

 

In the blink of eye,

Eye everything cease,

Dropping down to her knees,

The fire in her heart,

Went out cold,

Leaving her dire.

 

Her corpse was shivering,

Her tongue was quivering,

Now her lips were bone dry,

Was it a virtual truth,

Or a bare faced lie?

 

Because she was a women,

The women of her words,

Her word was her oath,

What-if she was foretold?

 

Since speech is silver,

Silence is gold.

I won’t mind if I were deaf,

So the words won’t be heard,

I wish they were only a surd,

So my heart won’t hurt.

 

I wish the final words,

Were only signs,

So everything would be fine,

Because the last impression dressed,

To words,

Is a heartfelt goodbye.