Season of moist talks

with our bodies collidingthis night sings a song of petunia,a soft spring blooming behind our feet.A velvet yawn of a quiet afternoon.The night is a tiny flowerthumping against the sun-kissed breathsa hum of summer,a hum of winter.The mouth dipped in the greasy elbows,a pathway to the flowering petals.Silver droplets of water,the body shrinks like a

The Awakening

Tablecloth, wet bedsheets, branches/ twigs entangled between the phosphorous skin of ours. Circles of slow breaths sighs, deeper of magenta blush The months become cold. almost nostalgic, fever rushing through veins & chills of hypnosis against the walls, on the kitchen slab we spread our colours while the black night absorbs our love through the

April

And just like that between the chorus of the bruised sky, I slip my set of auburn love. Sediments of galaxies and rivers entwined between my outgrown fingers. Seduction is a way of swimming across your mind, half awake. These tall trees perform tensions, fiction, crickets squeaking, and a layer of loneliness shifts to the

A love song

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

The Way I Do It.

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,

Cups, stains& cigars

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

Dreams and talks

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

Chimera

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.

The Ritual.

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

Image

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— Propitiating, proliferating your eyes resemble best with my heart. Maundering tiny tales. ©MVS