Fill the cacophonous rhythm of my mirrored-eye
with the cosmos and nightlight
entwined with grapevine of smiles,
A complexion of you, a shadow.
The craters enjoy the stratospheric
reds, greens, million of boomings.
I worship, with visual feathers,
burgeon smells, intoxication.
The deep smell of my pores
pronounce your name,
multiplying in the furtive eminence.
Then, the thunders dance
smearing lipstick of love,
coughing the dirt of abstruse corners
conquering the walls of illusion.
“I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair”— Pablo Neruda
In the sleepless nights of thunder and laughter,
I craved the shape of your mouth,
where the butterflies built a rainbow
soaking in the solemn orange skies.
Tranquility glitters as my reflection
and my anklets clamour my tears.
Oh, the moon weeps, upon the last September
where I was here and you still a dream.
I know language of flowers and dandelions,
the language of thorns and crooked stars
silence resist in the topology of melting grass
like the Colossus,
I am lost in trepidation of white penumbra
surrounding my teeth and distance between teeth
hush…hush…my body is aerial
hush…hush…my grey segment of the index finger is silent.
In the cacophony of lost and found
I am a soliloquy speech
under your slick peels of love, hate.
I have a temple inside my chin,
for I am a pendulum of sonorous