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“Our Window,” A Love Poem
Sometimes, the air smells of you when I unlock our mahogany dust-coated chest Captured whiffs from the past that never seem to dissolve like the feeling of an intimate kiss on damp, bare skin. Once, I wipe the dust off, staining my hands with hints of dried tears and fallen petals of bleeding hearts the lock slips off, and I peer in the kaleidoscope of this still world, the fresh scent of pine trees will escape, but they remain trapped inside where the wind brushes and leaves and comes back. Locks of laughter emerge, hushed whispers under warm sheets in darkness, save for the glow of untouched, locked phone screens.…
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“Still” and “Close,” Gallery Series
I. Still We were strangers whispering under the silver moonlight of sacred stories seeping through every inch of our bodies. Deep into the night, we felt warmth from the stars above, not the cold drafts. It was new like a translucent shell of an unwritten book, eagerly waiting for the pencil to be held. ~ We were lovers curled up on a yellow picnic blanket under the warm sun, feeling the air thicken with honey. We created our own language, one that only we could understand. It sounded like the waves humming, and the rustling of the pages as the wind brushed by for a moment. ~ We were…
