Madeline,
My never dreamt enough daydream.
With red lipstick on your lips,
Like you have been purposely
Pouring pomegranate seeds
Over them every night.
Your voice enchants and bewitches
Even those wise ones.
Because no wisdom stands a chance
When the sweetest coctail of your voice
Begins pouring down my ears.
Madeline,
If summer dress in late August
Could become a person,
It would be you.
My favorite illusion.
I would drink red wine
And write poems
In the midst of your twilight
Until the end of time.
And on my last day on this Earth,
I would spend my last breath
Admiring you.
Madeline.
Rare fruit to those who don't want to feel.
Alluring phantom of what they want deep inside,
But could never have in this lifetime.
Not until they heal.
Madeline,
Then you cry silver tears
When they end up leaving.
But silver stops you from seeing
That you have been abandoning yourself
All along.
Madeline,
You are a silent death to those
Who want to hold you.
Even the best ones have fallen.
Myself included.
Madeline,
You're saying you're afraid of
Lifts and small confined spaces,
When the actual cage is in your mind.
Madeline,
Everything that has ever
Happened to you,
Has only happened in your mind.
I guess, that's why you always write.
Madeline,
I wish you won't stay a shadow
And stop being afraid of life.