there was a precise brush
of shoulders igniting fire
on the outskirts of the himalayas
fading away in that vespertide
you crashed uninvited into my dreams
that look of your eyes; endless
and everything you touched was gold
everything you said was a thrill
and somehow
between the shadow and the soul
I built you in myself, in this heart
in this mind, in this havoc
the way you knew how I loved
the stars before you met me
I believe you are mine
in some parallel universe where
under that tree — lies a picturesque
I run my hands through your hair
as you fall asleep with a C+ book
in your hands waiting for the bell
to ring.
—(e.m)
