Experienced Dove

Don’t cry—my experienced dove. Such a symbol bleeds—
Such luxury. Rule the stars, my love: my reigning dynasty.
For purple lines—and shadows—breed vignettes. Such
Majesty, a psychic ghost; and such loyalty, a woman’s love.
I’m swimming streams, a phantom kiss—and I adore the
Fantasy. My fever, a woman’s mind: my ache, a cryptic
Castle; and we dance, a parted sea. Indeed, my cultic
Paradise, scratch the moon, invade the sun—lest the wings
Perish. The season—a flaming sword: the years—a stream
Of verses. Don’t cry—my experienced dove. Such a tear—
An angel’s soul; and such grief—a silent triumph. My
Pulse, a rhythm soft; and violet joy, the deepest smile.
Indeed, the times have cried, a flirting heart—and we sail,
A thousand waves.