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by Dilan Qadir
Scorpions carry the torch of glory
and the lightning plays hide and seek.
You are drenched with unknown bliss,
marching toward an unseen
destiny.
It is now or never,
or you thought so, folding
the sheets of old lovers
who have left behind their perfume
in memory. You kept the door
open, slightly, afraid to show
too much love, filtering brisk whispers.
The days spiral into rain,
leaving mist on wishful dreams;
it could have been otherwise
if only they understood
Orpheus.
The darkness tames you
and you wait for a chance
to light up the candles.