Our tongues are dancing muscles sprinkled with the magic dust of languages, as if before birth we’re treated on a buffet of diverse dialects and accents where we select how our mouths will circle and arch to utter each twisted word’s lyrical march, but pause and place your vein-hand in the middle of your breasts, […]
Tag Archives: love
in seven stanzas
i There are two not singing Asian koehls dancing to the tune of April drizzle, playing with brown, and a bit smaller mynahs. ii The plane above looked c r a w l i n g , ever so s l o w l y , […]
midnight wish
open palms, wet with salt of sweat and tears, reach out outside as glass pane’s fog clears, like a yearning new branch of a house-caged vine bending, sneaking, reaching out for sun, these palms, brined with my excreted liquids stretch out to feel the breath of the cold December wind, wishing this same midnight breeze […]
soon, my love
Faint, fainter, faintest, goes the winky cars passing by. Dark, darker, darkest, goes the moonless November sky. Soft, softer, softest goes the notes of lullaby. Sleepy, sleepier, sleepiest, goes the tired city whisp’ring goodbye. Soon, sooner, soonest, I’ll be near, as another day dies. — 11.06.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash […]
time zones
High-pitched giggles of sparrows no longer echo inside the cave of my ears before the kraa kraa of your crows disrupt your evening’s fiction dreams. Yet what a gift that despite our clock’s different schemes your early and my early daily meet in between. — 10.23.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash […]
l i m b o
Mechanical wings wheeze up, up, up. Rubber wheels tiptoe, touch clouds, up, up, away from the safe harbor of the steady ground towards the limbo of oblivion, sometimes with carpet of laughing stars. In between galaxies and mortal land, I’m here to meet you. — 08.25.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via Unsplash […]
Soon
Feet floating on notes of a love song we call ours, with blooms of baby’s breath tuck in between my dark hair strands, each step I make will lead me towards the end of my life; the start of ours. Take my hand, it’s now all yours, my love. — 08.09.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. […]
Colored Strangers
While I was walking home, someone called my name. A genderless body wearing a sunny smile, a mist-kissed scent, and a sunset orange glow. “Hello, my name is love. I know I might be hard. But would you come with me, tonight?” Before my surprised tongue could let a word roll out, another face came, […]
Fingers and Palms
Thin but brave bones bending but seldom or just sometimes breaking. With muscles built for exercise— gripping, typing, or clenching. The puzzle of fingers and palms, I thought need not completing. Until my right had felt your left— oh, this is what complete means. — 07.31.2018 ©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved. Photo via […]
yours (a zejel)
My written words are now sweeter. My sword sharper, my soul softer. Your love made me better, braver. Aboard the Himalayan air, you trekked slowly near my heart’s chair, braving love’s daunting, unmapped lair. I felt your presence crawl nearer. With tongue with none but honesty, you brought not roses, sugary, instead rhododendrons, spicy. I […]
