Let's roll our tobacco tongues together, a song so pure, the poetry of cosmos. I have a word stuck on my eyelid to love 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. A song, 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.
My Phospherent body of raisin skin moans and swells like a process of Spirituality with fingers clinging your mouth, your scars, your lips, your teeth and your heart of surrealistic reverie. I become a thunderbolt, in the opulent windows of dreams and smiles wearing your white shirt, I swing. I swing like an autumn leaf, cascading down your throat, that black spot on your chest You thump and palpitate my arms. Spring is born between our naked lips. The temperature of cold walls crack in the slices of Orion blue. A stardust drinks the entire Constellation Life trembles and illusions occur. I breathe you somewhere between the spaces of my index finger and my thumb now. I wear your sins on my mercury tongue levitating branches and seeds of satisfaction, darling.
I can fill your china cups with vintage memory of us. Where, i see you sipping my lips through the window sill, like a drunk sky & the tipsy moon. In the hitched- run of mundane lives, i drink your cheeks and mole, your legs & fingers like a mulberry pancake, frost often frozen. I like it that way.
i chew your scars with razor- electric nights of thor and acids. I do it anyway.
With a heart of a sun, i flip into your arms, cascading moments of dreams & dreams. Our bodies going wild fire, scratching depths to know the inner depths. The complete forest is lit.We run like mad currents, diffusing slivers of unborn kisses and future rain. We make love like the Himalayas, dwindling with the Pines or something more surreal. Something soft & crisp,the winds, the freedom . All knitted in my precious womb, my
place of togetherness. My thighs dance, magnets sucking my skin to cling me more. It speaks to me about your vintage cups, stain and cigars.
oh, i must be drunk now to sniff your vintage white shirt.
I could smell your wine, your amniotic sheets of pure stars and silicon lullaby, regenerating my outgrown toes and stale stairs. this head wrap is a lie, if your nights do not talk to mine. You become my pool of waters and waters that kills my dead skin, on repeats. You wander, like a dream soft and tiny in my 4 A.M talks, the moment of collision I see your swapping legs and arms kisses and poetry tears and scars, A mulberry sheet of dreams. I could smell you once again in the words of pillow marks, in the arch of my windowsill. Knitting and defying this entire life, you do it in a pattern. You do it always.
image credits- Google
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.
©My Valiant Soul
Darling, my lips measure your spaces and wounds
with the thumb, I knit seismic waves on your back
Paradises stitching, lands coinciding inside
Like a wildflower, I bloom here.
Soils: A bark of memories, red and black.
I travel beneath the surfaces and measure
the cleaving knots, dome-shaped illusions.
Light strikes the stardust and I am a Mirror again
Foretelling your miseries
Holding the icicles of stories on my palms,
I have a newborn skin tonight,
with things to clean
with love as sweet medicine
with White curtains
Sun-kissed air, I am a falling bridge
Having a heart as your canvas.
Flickering. Motionless. oh, Darling.
The envelope's blue fold
like a catharsis of us
entrapped like a canopy,
or a memory.
The rusty smell of Vodka
The lying knocks,
Hush, this moment
a fragment of the moon.
I sink into your lips
and memorize your words—
your eyes resemble best with
my heart. Maundering tiny tales.