Jaw framed by clenched fists, knuckles white like bare bones Eyes wondering on the window, a landscape of washed out people Hurrying back home, to warm arms and hot cups of tea His brain like hot lava, wondering why he did not leave, When the leaving was good, when sun was slowly sinking In his bed of roses, when things were not said, when consequences Still mattered. Image @ unsplash
The sun caught its dawning rays In the lacy leaves of the locust tree above us There is no such thing as the perfect weather To fall in love Because being in love plays its own trick On the way we see things, transforming Heat into decadent skin, clouds into foam, pain into pleasure And many other pretty little deceiving versions Of reality. Image @ unsplash
We were alone today for a few hours Me and my newborn child, I snuggled my nose Into his tummy, his clothes smelt of milk I breathed him in and felt some sort of nirvana I felt exhilarated, as if I had stolen something Without getting caught and when my two year old daughter Returned home she asked me to hug her while she sleeps Her skin is so warm and soft, I imagine This is the way love must…