Suicide

What the pair shows is not beautiful, what the pair lets me to listen to is not a melody, what the pair smells is not a perfume, what the pair kissed is a bitter poison. what my fingers touch is nothing but fire. Life! All the five pairs are ruled by the sixth but it's a singular, and it's my heart that is still hopeful, and believes one day you'll be a reddish wine, with an appetizing smell, the music when I shall pour you into the glass will be soothing the fire will burn my all frustrations I shall kiss you with love I don't know how long this kiss will be I am afraid though I'll kiss you but before I drink you you'll kill yourself. (Thanks Valsa George for your poem The Pair of Two Eyes, sometimes you inspire me to write a poem within a few minutes)