You're still the air—
kissing, caressing
the creases of my clothes,
but trapped and restless
in my veins.
BINABASA MO ANG
Pareidolia
PoesíaMy wild flower I know you have thousands of thorns, but still I see your face in every petal and I love to plant you between the blank pages of my book. I'll keep you forever even you're not fragrant anymore.
xxxviii
You're still the air—
kissing, caressing
the creases of my clothes,
but trapped and restless
in my veins.
