“Outlines” by Sleeping At Last
Fluttering of hot breath on my naked shoulder – I’m sleeping but never fully asleep. My mind rests but my body is awake, responsive to every cool breeze of the air conditioner, the soft waves of the blanket – the way they make me aware of my own bare skin. I’m aware of where you are, where your hands lie, your silhouette and its rhythmic breathing.I’m aware of what’s happening behind my back and in my mind. I’m asleep,
But I swear I’m smiling.
Continue reading “Common Territory”
Atlantic by Sleeping At Last
You will wake up one day and realize that you forgot her completely.
You’ll recall the day it started, when you forgot the way she smelled. It’ll happen again.
Your new lover will ask about your past lovers and you’ll start describing her and realize that you forgot the sound of her voice. You will be secretly embarrassed but you will get over it. But then one night,
Winds howl her name.
Continue reading “One Day”
Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9 No. 2 by Chopin
Dancing by the fireplace, we spilled love all over the floor. Our feet moved imperfectly; you stepped on my toes and apologized vehemently. And all I could do was laugh and thank my stars for the way you are.
Continue reading “By The Fireplace”
La Vie En Rose by Louis Armstrong (Cover by Daniela Andrade)
Moments before we kissed for the first time, I felt something sinking, emptying, hollowing up inside of me. It felt so scarily exciting, I had difficulty breathing – my mind was full of static noise.
But the moment your lips touched mine, it all shut up. Continue reading “XXIII”
On some days, I don’t get out of my bed. I sit and stare at the ceiling, sometimes outside a window if there is a window to look outside. Some days I feel the hot sticky air of the afternoon dampening my blanketed body, some days the room is shrouded in darkness with no sense of time. On these particular days, I have to dig within for a substantial reason to get up. Continue reading “Insatiable”
Why are we scared of new beginnings? Well, not all of us are scared, but some are. And by some, I mean me. And by me, I mean an awful mess of torrid emotions and imagination. Continue reading “To Err Is ?”