A SHADE OF CHARADE. (An Original Poetry)

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Spectacles in fragments,
debacles that blinds
like haze precedes the dusk
like cockroaches
slithering in nocturnal places,
the spirit slumbers,
unaware of perilous things
that abides on the road,
we love with our heart,
on a platter of cutleries
like a soldier in love
with the sizzling sound of arrows

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Flowers in our dreams,
a taste of tactility,
that splinters into our reality
like the tiny dots of rain,
the freckles of snow
spattered by blood,
oozing from delicate places
where we live to love
wraiths with angel's smiles.

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They're like a shade of charade
a bluff on the lips
that lives only a moment,
dying before we wake,
a betrayal in the smiles
a taste of regrets
that precedes a pile of pain

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We're in love with falsity,
trusting the uncertainty,
of the tearing tide,
washing away truth
like memoirs,
stripped from us like attires
bested by our weakness
and trampled on,
till we're stripped bare
left to muse in agony