Sunrise. Salt. And so we
met.
Music. Midnight. And we
moved.
Pigeons. Pockets. And we hid.
Swings. Sweat. And we danced.
Distance. Dampness. And we
ran.
Football. Facade. Drew new
lines and overstepped.
Cake. Closet. Hid beneath
the sheets.
Secrets. Slippers. Tore at
promises and all that bothered.
Grass. Gullies. Tread on
each other’s feet.
Lips. Light. Raised bars,
chased cars.
Stories. Sunburn. And we were
left untold.
Rain. Red. And we tasted the
gods.
Words. Walks. Stranded at
crossroads.
Blanks. Books. And we were
empty.
Dates. Dogs. Fancifully fed.
Nails. Nests. We drove into
walls.
Goats. Gates. Bled together,
sharpened swords.
Laughter. Letters. We wrote
ourselves anew.
Toothbrush. Terrace. And we
fell off beds.
Skirt. Sofa. Lay quiet under
rustling leaves, shouting guards.
Buses. Binoculars. Tied
ourselves to rocks and jumped.
Guitar. Games. Bruised and
bumbled.
Movies. Metro. We flashed in
motion pictures.
Album. Arms. And green
strawberries.
Shower. Shade. Swirled jam and
cradled water.
Orange. Over-bridge. Freshly
baked, burnt and spared.
Petals. Pulse. And we played
to the beat.
Fury. Fantasies. And the
bubble burst.
Cricket. Cats. We blew a new one.
Finding Neverland. Here we go
again.
This is so beautiful
ReplyDeleteIf I am able to make you feel even a fraction of what it is like I'd be beyond thrilled.
Deletehow long do you take to write them?
ReplyDeletei mean its so related and yet so unrelated one cant imagine whether its river water flowing or the water from a damn being passed along with such perfect control that it is that is you.
This one was saved in my drafts for a while but I wasn't satisfied with it. First loves are sacred topics. Always too scared to do them injustice. Then suddenly something struck a chord. Changed the whole thing and put it up.
DeleteAlways too scared to do them injustice.
Deleteits the one reason i try to stay away from writing anything about her.
and as for first loves... boy i would like to hear your story someday.