Dark Blue Memory

No words are gentle

Till they're kept in the mantle.

And the Memories are like trails,

Although the Time seemed to be frail.

The passions were unfurled

Posing the vows as cults

And dreams camouflaged.

The melody of the soul 

Humming like the bee

And now stringing in silence,

To portray the picture of decadence.

That time has slipped

From the fingers flipped

Leaving the blue blisters.

The Memories can also fly 

Like the disguised butterfly,

And secretly kiss on the lips

Pouring venoms in the heart.

More the soul tries to breathe

The more it's trapped in the dark blue grip.