Poetry

There was a big question. Why 
one was not raped. 
It hits the gate of heaven. 
 
The moon has not risen. 
I become a victim of an elegy 
before my demise. 
 
Thus I am back to square one, 
when I had not fallen in love 
and you were still in errancy. 
 
Pleading for levitation in tender 
zone.It was the blackbird 
which was not ready to swallow a moon. 
 
Scaling the peaks without climbing. 
I am going to bring down the milk 
of an artist, who would not 
paint a goddess.