Slowly, his lips shape my name, claim,                              
holds till dusk pales in contrast, flame,                           
a kiss, such that one cannot blame,                                  
nor be the same, nor be the same.                                  

I adore the thought of him, high,
the rush, the leaves wanting, sigh.
Nothing else matters, a blue sky
says don’t be shy, says don’t be shy.

Send my pulse racing; come forget,
on moonless nights settle this debt,
half of the year’s gone; cannot let
blushing hour set, blushing hour set.

Gazing past road that leads to south,
he slowly touched hem of my blouse,
just you and me, come take an oath,
taste ‘yes’ in mouth, taste ‘yes’ in mouth.

 

 

 

Photo credits: “Handwritten,” by Olya Kobruseva

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Posted for Poetry Form: Monotetra @dVerse Poets Pub