Her Violet Bones

Image edited by the owner with help the of Pinterest

Her eyes are blue
Everytime filled with water,
She is not a good girlfriend
Neither a good daughter.

She is rude and offensive
Calm, silent, and tame
Stays apart from the crowd
And I think there’s no shame.

Her eyes are door to grief
And lips sealed with plight,
She pretends smiling at day
And dies every night.

She has lost everyone
And never got them back,
If the life is colourful
Then why is her black?

Remains solitary and aloof
And talks to no-one,
Says that she doesn’t have a heart
Then why cries for someone?

She sleeps under moon
With it’s light soo dim,
Shedding her violet tears
In memories of 'him’.

She was a violet flower
Calm and compose,
Has now turned withered
Like a dead black rose.

She dried,
Before she could bloom,
And now Spending her holidays
In a locked dark room.

Queens live in bright days

Yet she prefers starkness,
In wanting to be a queen
Has become an empress of darkness.

Had walked through the day
Has now reached night,
Holds a candel in her hands
but prefers not to light.

Her tears appear silver dew
When rest on her lashes,
Her hopes were the papers
Now left as ashes.

Though she’s a black rose
But a violet from inside,
‘She is rude and dark’
Is the biggest thing she lied.

Yet the mystic aura she carries
And her fierce eyes tell,
That her beauty is a weapon
And her aura is a spell.

I love her when she walks alone
Carrying silver dark tones,
I love her when she walks
With her violet bones.

Hey Faithers, I hope you liked and enjoyed reading it.

Do comment ❤️

Image by the owner