Clipped wings of love ...

The carcass of hope was afloat 
reluctantly of course in the fortress of fatigue
as he surely wasn't inching in the boat
and she was in no mood to argue. 

The air slowly seeped in the holes of brood
dishing out an elegy of coup
each one knew he was not a lifeless rood 
to come up with such a soup.

All was now an infertile zone
actually formed on a lie
for them to solely face alone
thus burying it forever by the girlie.

Politically correct was not the milieu
that sunk heavily in the religious skin
just that it was a vacant place in lieu
hung carelessly in the grotesque mannequin.

Dead is not the person but the spirit
haplessly carving out a riviera of dreams
fueled relentlessly so as to disinherit
eventually forever in the casket with no beams.

(courtesy - honor killings)