Would the sound of my silence
Travel through the labyrinth of our routine,
Like my myriad words do
When they caress your skin?
Would the warmth of my gaze
Dissolve the wars we fought and lost,
Like the heat of my touch
Penetrates your smog and melts your frost?
Would my evening’s fatigue, sweat, and toil
Make you proud of my ways less-trodden,
Like my morning pranks and tickles
Add to our pile of memories begotten?
Would my flight, free and high
Make you be my wild gust of wind,
Like your ecstasies soar
For us being thus intertwined?
Would the traces of my thoughts
Etch marks on your soul,
Like the reminiscence of my estrogen
Lingers on your whole?
 |
| Note: If you are viewing the photo on phone, please rotate the screen. The mobile-version is not ready yet. Please bare with me! |
0 comments:
Post a Comment