Some days, all I can feel is the whisper of your thoughts caressing my soul
As I run my hands through the memory
Where time only counts in moments of you
I turn my face to the touch of your lips
The hint of your kiss upon my imagination
Drawing me closer to the naked truth
As I know it
Your lips, your kiss, the mere touch of you is bliss
I cannot deny it tonight, who am I to resist?
The drifting of time and again
Far and away, the delicate balance of me
Begins and end with you
Pictures have their own way of telling the story, sometimes too much color takes away from the beauty of the vision. The emotional association of coloring ones worlds perchance? In so many ways, less is best and it adds to the peace of the moment, so that I may breathe again.
I open the door and let you in, only to feel your loveliness that carries such soft delicate feelings, like a warm whisper passing swiftly by.
The Collecting of thoughts
As they pass through the night
With you by my side, or, alone
Out of a cloud of obscurity did you come
Leaving the gate of my heart undone
Revealing exposed to the world that was watching
Of love, everlasting
Effortless in nature
Simple beauty just takes my breath away.
Flowers. Always. Because they color my world.
All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.
It’s my way. I walk out to the deep end of the page and dive right in.
And just like that, these words are done. I want to thank @tattoodjay for hosting #WednesdayWalk and for strolling along with me through the musings of my mind. Some days, I just have to let them go, giving them freedom, spread across the pages, to say what they say and do what they wish. This smile is for you @ElizaChang and #MakeMeSmileChallenge.
they set my aunts house on fire
i cried the way women on tv do
folding at the middle
like a five pound note.
i called the boy who use to love me
tried to ‘okay’ my voice
i said hello
he said warsan, what’s wrong, what’s happened?
i’ve been praying,
and these are what my prayers look like;
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
"where does it hurt?"
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