when the heart writes

The doom i feared had come. The sun had wrenched its radiant arms. No more paint of azure skies. Instead, a pale purple peel from roses and dandelions. Through which, the pollen stung a spasm of bitterness, siphoning the nectar from which i seed and grow. No more dew smiles and misty kisses; ashy snows piled up from the very ground i am coiled and anchored. now, im forsakened and it has made me the least from the desert grasses. There's nothing i can do but to stand dry and weary, feeble and helpless. Not even a single drop of water rains. And i long for the thirst you quench me. But i know its never gonna happen again for distant miles would separate us. The thought it makes me shed off my soul and wallow on the verge of tribulation. ( to be continued)