“Perhaps when you will leave, you will take something of mine: chestnuts, roses or a surety of roots or boats that I wanted with you, comrade”— Pablo Neruda
I doubt the incubation of turgescent moment
where my hands might be swollen
and your tongue all opaque,
I do not wish a lush firmament
or kisses of holy verses,
For I crave is the skin and pores
and countless breaths you take
like torrential piquant roses and wine
You rotate into my feverish mollusc body
Like an Equinox, you conquer my susceptible shadow
Walnuts cracking piece by piece,
the susurration sound to be heard
mapping your virile chest and hands
Too many secrets of love to be unveiled tonight
like letters, vintage photographs, Pure breaths.
I crack bit by bit into your wonderous mouth
Detonating into million and million pieces of delicate memory,
And each time, you hear me.
Pull me closer to your diamond skin
a place that eats all my molested scars,
in the walls of books and poetry
you shall be my muse, the other half.
of my upcoming poetic line, upcoming splinters of ice,
we make love castles,amidst the dirt hanging like spider web,
Precise knots of commitment are the strongest.
Skin:a reverie of splashing memory,
Something that your lips eat daily.
Turn by turn, inch by inch
we mark each other’s soul
creating geometry, defeating geography.
My collarbone is star dust today,
Ebullient scents from your whisky eyes
expand my artless poetry,
like the writings scribbled onto my library walls,
pink, orange, brown.
I cling to your mauvy shadow
Like an auburn Meraki of stars
In the meadows of lust,
In the turbid blue hemisphere
Seeking your Serendipity of breaths,
Brushing your knots of cryptic bizarre kiss
And mixing with my tainted red lipstick.
Swallowing. Choking. Yearning.
Latitude of your strawberry eye in congruence with my winter skin
where a pool of weeds evaporate sinking into the outlandish touch,
A loop of anomalous cogent thread arise in the windowpane of your heart,
I see the Earth, the moon and my teeth cracking your Universe,
For I reside in your skins of skins.
Quixotic eyes that spill the poetic halcyon of star-dust,
like the friction of two naked bodies romancing on the naked moon,
I see you evolving, a robust wild bittersweet flower,
I see your palpable heart, and my lips breathing Skins of Skins.
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.
In the melancholic time,
when the dark howl craws
In the harrowing soils mask,
where the river flow is backwards
I bask in the sunshine,
towards the bridge of memories.
my skin knits
I am sun-kissed today,
like a morsel of apple-pie
sulking on my white bare skin
I am a memory today.
where the sweet honey clings my tongue
pouring my holiness into your laps
I am a pattern to be formed, embellished
I am aliferous today, this moment.
“Under your skin, the moon is alive”- Pablo Neruda
My body has gone counting
The twists and folds of your skin.
My hands have carved a tattoo
plunged into your chest,
where a basket of sunrises glitter
like the moon’s hideous smile.
I have heard the murmurs of your heart
where white earth blooms.
Like sagacious door-knob,
And the small key-hole,
where I flow like mesmerizing dust,
Aurora hair sparkles,
golden Orion of moon slice resists in you.
Crackles, splinters, chills, winters
found in your wet earlobe,
as I walk upon the moist earth,
my sagging dreams
only to meet your infinite luscious skins of skin.
Like a distinctive shine, my heart palpitates for your convex smile,
the dewy lips romancing with a shooting star,
the prodigious forest inside my body receives a gust of fragrance,
your beatific touch that glitters my waistline, oh, my man!
Between lips and parched lips, resides a mystical cacophony
yarning a crown of butterflies to decorate my atlas of body
to receive the markings that spread through my milky breast
where the darkness vanishes in the monotony of time,
I smell my bed sheet, the spots you rocked me,
clinging on the jasmine night,
that gave an ephemeral shake, a tremor to our naked souls.
A thunder I produced, inside my poppy finger-nails
where I captured your aroma,
as a pearl of delight: my necklace
I want your immortal touch inside the folds of my skin,
sucking my tongue
residing in the interiors of my temple shaped body,
I have known moist cities and pale humans
putting a slumber to my desire,
And snickering to my crooked jawline
where the goddess even hides in cold evenings.
I have seen sanity, insanity.
I have been tattooed with thorns of roses
wrapped around my neck, suffocating, killing, devastating.
And here I survive in your crisp prism blurry image
turning around the previous thorns as a cultivated seed.