Tag: scent

  • The Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The realm of crimson roses was my treasure
    The secret haven of my desires for extravagant dreams
    The sweet and bewitching scent of the crimson roses drugged me
    It was like I drank the poison of oblivion for the very first time
    And I forgot my essence, bleeding my heart out

    I had visions and hallucinations like I was in an eternal sleep
    I saw beauty and magnificence in every corner of the castle of dreams
    Crying and smiling, I’ve finally found infinite delight in my abyss of anguish
    No pang could frighten me anymore because I was free
    Like a bird flying so high, it could touch the sky

    I belonged to the realm of crimson roses, and my heart was bound to it
    Through invisible chains made of love and death
    No slumber was necessary anymore because I was in a perpetual state of stupor
    Enchanted by a wicked spell cast over me, I could no longer abandon my state of captivity
    I was languidly mesmerised

    I surrendered to a throne of nightmares and dread
    It was made of crimson roses and adorned with long and sharp thorns
    So pointed were their punches pierced my heart
    Making me bleed until I became an ethereal creature of the night
    The pain freed me from fears and insecurities
    And I had not anymore a material body
    After all, I never lived in reality because I was born in the realm of nightmares and madness

    I knew not whether I dreamt or waked
    So dazed was my mind, I could not divine between vision and verity
    The realm of crimson roses could have been a spectre of my imagination
    Enchanting me like a nocturnal lullaby
    It suited my senses and hypnotised my heart
    A fleeting Utopia, born to wither with the dawn.
    Elisabetta

  • The Scent of Emptiness

    The Scent of Emptiness

    The scent of emptiness swept through the hollow air like a deadly breeze,
    A gust like a whisper, cold and bare,
    It carried with it, faint and slow,
    The scent of something lost long ago.

    It drifted through rooms, abandoned, still,
    Through spaces void of life or will,
    Where light no longer dared to creep,
    And all that was left remained endless sleep.

    The walls once spoke of ardour and fire,
    Of hearts alive with intense desires,
    But now they crumbled, feeble and frail,
    Their tales of love began to pale.

    The scent of emptiness, it clung,
    A sorrow born of broken things unsung,
    Of merriments lost, of fleeting days,
    Of shadows in forgotten ways.

    What once was rich with scented blooms,
    It now became a house of vacant rooms,
    The echoes fainted, the aura so thin,
    Wanderers felt the dark crawl deep within.

    A withered rose left in a vase,
    Its petals were brown, devoid of grace,
    However, still the scent of old remained,
    A ghost of what it once contained.

    And as ghouls rambled through the dust,
    They felt the weight of brittle rust,
    The scent of emptiness, so sweet,
    It pulled them closer and dragged their feet.

    It chilled the skin, it clawed the mind,
    With memories cruel and unkind,
    A fragrance of despair and fear,
    That pulled the soul ever near.

    In every crevice, every fold,
    The scent of emptiness grew bold,
    It whispered through the cracks of time,
    A lingering perfume of crime.

    For once, these halls were full of life,
    Of joy, of pain, of love and strife,
    Now, nothing stirred but silent dread,
    Where every dream was long since dead.

    Yet something lingered in the gloom,
    A presence watching from the room,
    It smelled the sorrow on the breeze,
    And watched as the shadows froze.

    And in this emptiness, so vast,
    The present faded, the future’s past,
    For nothing lives, and nothing dies,
    In hollow rooms where silence lies.

    The scent of emptiness remained,
    A haunting note, a whispered name,
    And though the world outside may turn,
    Inside, that scent will never burn.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • An Apathetic Wonder

    An Apathetic Wonder

    An apathetic wonder at the sight of all the future catastrophes
    A meaningful fear traps me and pulls me into the abyss of obscurity
    Ghosts and spectres are my eager companions
    Being in many places in one day
    Travelling time quickly in a preternatural form
    A glare of light and fire pretended to scare me
    Everything was a dream of a vision
    And suddenly, the present night appears
    No more complaints when the world would outcast

    An apathetic wonder like a golden morning candle
    For another cold scent of winter
    When the rain does not stop pouring on the streets
    In the heat
    And my blood is frozen like the winter snow
    The beautiful colours of stars become flowers
    All of a sudden
    A mystery which never existed has been the truth on earth
    Trying to forget distasteful memories

    An apathetic wonder of the sky
    Every time a desire becomes complex
    Every moment of happiness and sorrow
    It cannot happen again
    An opportunity for the mind
    Incurable wounds of the soul
    Nothing but excellent astonishments
    The water is everywhere, coming from the blue
    Creating a vast ocean of tears and sighs

    An apathetic wonder
    Being busy living within my soul
    Those ancient memories
    From every place of my mind
    Passing along with my own dreams
    The sky is pure and dark
    A lovely gloomy air
    Where I cannot perceive any colour or sound
    During an infinite journey in my subconscious

    An apathetic wonder in a light storm
    Winged like nothing else
    My words fly away
    Toward a remote invisible place
    Where every kind of bliss and pain was dwelling
    Once the sun was gone
    As a gilded sign of merriment
    And red roses were made of silver and gold
    My heart could not beat anymore in delight
    Because my dreams were open doors.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Scent Of The Death

    The Scent Of The Death

    The Scent of the Death

    Among solitude and darkness
    I have no name anymore
    The mirrors on the walls are entirely shattered
    There are no shadows in the house
    The Sun left a time ago
    And in its place, there is a ghostly and pale light
    A perpetual candle is always lit to commemorate all the memories
    Both the horribles and the blissful ones
    The cracks on the walls are a reflection of the misery of the soul living thither
    Spiderwebs are the curtains protecting the intimate moments of a desolate soul
    A deserted soul who lost every joy and hope.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Scent Of My Dreams

    The Scent Of My Dreams

    The Scent Of My Dreams

    The scent of my dreams is like a Chopin nocturne
    The sumptuous and opulent scent of tuberose and jasmine surround me

    Impregnating my body and my hair
    And I dream of being away in a place where I can feel protected
    Forgetting everything and everyone
    All the old and abusive memories would disappear
    Finally, I would be free from intrusive thoughts and flashbacks
    Sometimes I thought that I deserved every kind of anguish
    Just because I would feel at peace with myself and with my oppressors
    I never needed their love and attention as I thought
    Nevertheless, they needed me.
    Esther Racah

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