As personal as a shiver,
As intimate as morning
When birds sing,
That is,
The way I wish to speak to you.
When the sun loses strength
And the moon intervenes,
A softer scene,
That is,
The way I wish to see you.
An honest mess- A rain cloud affair; Nothing more than clothes in the corner piled high on the chair, Your mouth says a name- doesn’t...
What if spilled ink Was nothing more than Dense words compacted On your muddled page? Not a mess to mop up, But a message to sort out....
The ephemeral glow of the sun, rising above the ocean. Light rays reach out, like the hands of a god offering eternal tranquility....
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