Temperature as high as this pain,
grief: a dialogue now between this sour body.
A sinister talk to my mind,
threads of summer bright,
Yes, understand this poem now
understand the grief behind the back,
the bareback of velvet love,
the river madness,
my body shuddering like a torn piece of cloth
to miss your teeth on my chest,
your breath on my bosom.
Understand this departure, as well.
I chop a slice of moon
of an excellent shard from a mirror,
I take a dip in a splintering winter well,
the well of charm & despair,
the evening air does the rest of the job
the apricots stitched onto my lips
my lips forbid to tell your secrets
there is nothing inside the gateway to chivalry,
a half-eaten fruit
a half-read poetry
a half- kissed muse
There it is
I can feel it freely
a gallop of a hysteric wave,
a sunrise, so distant
you need the recipe?
see my knuckles, the hard egg shaled nails,
a fever running through my belly,
they all bow to my cheekbones,
my cheeks ingest your lies too.
How about it?
Will it be a part of the regime too?
and a salt-glazed cup
of electric moon
it didn’t take long,
to be like this.
i wept also.
I wept and wept
till my skin floated in the air so pristine,
and here you have my secrets
for what makes me glow
like mountains, valleys
You never noticed, never, fool!
Let's roll our tobacco tongues together,
a song so pure, the poetry of cosmos.
I have a word stuck on my eyelid
to walk on the lines of your mind.
A world created of seismic waves.
And this bedsheet witnessing our lovemaking,
I have a love song
hidden under my blouse,
intricate as my palms,
detailed full womb of springs.
parallel of being
A single light.
And we suck this night
out of the paper straw,
this mulberry night of waves and potions.
We suck the air
making the atmosphere thin and fragile.
This galaxy is now
plucked from the hands of our infinite words.
check out my poetry published on Vita Brevis.
this ripple of water
on my lips
that twitch & break.
A lotion of rain,
winds collected in my eye
and a nude vase of arm,
that hums a cerulean sigh.
An acoustic of roses
swivelling my nerves
a blue vacant vein
now full & warm.
rub a spot of clouds
onto my bosom of emptiness.
a tongue only knows moisture
a tongue only knows a life beneath.
A joy emerges
from the shamble
of splintered life.
rub, rub, rub
a butterfly, a moth,
a window of blueberry night.
It’s like a sad part of my levitating body.
My fingers have a soft tendency to nurture, to sense pain.
and I sit on the lonely roads to pick up a saddened heart, to heal it.
sometimes, I have a feeling I am solid.
Solid like a vintage door, unbreakable.
Imperishable, who can swallow darkness inside darkness?
So, I produce light out of darkness.
I act like a mother to him, as well.
With clearwing moth like a skin of his,
sewing the gasps and sighs.
His body is made of a fallen moon, I believe so.
And at times, I am confused with the methods of love.
He is a rotating axis on my forehead.
he has leaked, the times I was leaking too.
And I kept quiet and sewed him again and again.
Like a silent prayer of pure holistic clouds.
my clavicle stuttering with the omen of noises.
Nothing is a flattened lie, but a departure.
My eyes are anxious now, to capture your lilting lips.
I watch you as you get healed now,
as I protect you now.
You are now an absent face of simmering smiles of the sky.