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As a dedicated believer of fantasy, the skies
Are green screens and you are the animation
On them, an untraceable, invincible shadow.
Your first word is sweeter than a child's first
Sound to a new mother, I'm suddenly struck.
I am anything but now bold, bold, bold.
The curl of your hair has resorted to a bird,
Not any bird, but an owl. Bedtime stories
Have taken a blushing twist to my pale cheeks.
You break the magnetic fields of the directions
When you walk towards my direction,
It is weak—the sirens of paramedic, but stronger.
The laugh spilling from your throat is a lure,
A true assassinator in a coat made of fur
And I'm a liar if it doesn't make my heart stir.
Don't you know how I read your name three times,
In the morning, the evening, and the night?
Swear to heaven if you are not a ritual—
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YOU ARE READING
𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒
Puisi[ P O E T R Y ] ➹ my blood is a bald cherry, its stem grows when the hands point in a single direction then it waits to coil on cutout tongues. 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 © 2019 cherrienoodles
