Of Kisses. 

​Some poetry always sticks to my eyelids everytime you kiss them. 


Nights, Days, and Dreams.

Let us wake up in the night,
Look for each other,
Find a comfy fit,
And go back to sleep.

Let us sleep into the noon,
Dream about what might happen,
A year ahead from now,
While we’re still here.

Let us open our eyes,
Against the beautiful orange dawn,
That we painted on our French windows,
On some morning that we cannot recall.

Let us sleep some more,
Arms tangled over each other,
Kisses dried on our lips,
Love stuck like cotton in our nostrils.

Defining Love.

A stab that goes skin-deep, leaving a paper-cut that burns with every tear that rolls over it. A kiss that smells the soul, painting a color that’s unseen by the naked eye. A touch that feels the throb of the heart, making a rhythm that beats a divine song. A look that brushes the curves and hues of a smile, inspiring a foolish bunch of butterflies, that’s what love is. A mystery quest, an open secret.