My Heart, Twas Still

The facade above my head,

with cotton clouds, it filled.

My heart shell’d by the cage

in deluge of thoughts, it was still.

Butterflies and memories

gathering around me, as 

the pink of the sinking sun

through the horizon, it spilled. 

My gazes, adrift

an off-road train.

From my hands, they fell

given by you- immaterial daffodils. 

Traces of the vase, now near my feet

Not a single blood of mine

it would spill, as

my heart in deluge, twas still. 

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