Meadow-Wishing Lovers


Emotions erase the words
cracking our lips—
fighting the sentences
we try so hard
to refrain from.

So you tangle your breath
into my washed out salmon strands,
streaming figure-eight rivers
down my thin neck.

And I wander my fingers
across a blissful field of feelings,
condensing the air between us.

I know I’ve waited so long for a spring to call you mine,
since a human heart can only contain a plethora of sympathy
at a single time, I personally think

you’re the perfect pink chaos,

for me
to sprout a love—pungent in pyres,
always seeking redemption with desire,
where little seedlings
can eternally bestow upon
pure beauty and passionflower divinity.


2 thoughts on “Meadow-Wishing Lovers

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