11:08 p.m.
tuesday eve —
somewhere in the
foliage of trees, 1900's
***
another hand
held my one that
reached for the sky.
my eyes averted
from the endless
blues i'm staring
and diverted to
the face that is
slowly obscuring
the shadow that
orbits my life.
he sat beside
my laying form.
bringing my hand
down. i looked at
him to see another
version than just
the smiling one
he always lets me
see. he wasn't
smiling. but he
looked happy and
peaceful.
silent.
due to fear, i could
not contain the
tears from spilling
out of my eyes like
the rapid smoke
of a non-existent
fire. burning me.
i fear the unknown.
i fear him. i fear
the light that he
used to enter my
system and broke
the shackles that
i am slowly loving.
he noticed the
tears. he always
does — no matter
how good i am at
hiding everything.
and i took this as
an advantage.
"hold me, my sun.
hold me close and
stop these dreadful
ocean i am slowly
creating."
a smile — the
answer. he hugged
me. my cheeks
wet and so is his
shirt. but he only
held me tighter
as i asked of him.
***
YOU ARE READING
Our Vintage Dance on the Phonograph
Puisi"you and - me, we traversed at the eve of the colossal pages of our bedroom balcony." - excerpt there is no other dancing partner i would dance with other than you, my sun. you bring me to places that are wiped out of history - to the gardens of rui...
