Thursday, 26 February 2015

Simultaneity and the beauty of imperfection.

She took her t-shirt off
The color of her bra clasps
colored the room grey
I moved my eyes away

He took his slippers off
lay on his subtle paunch
got lost in the darkness
between himself and the bed

A long slender back 
rested on a dreamy waist
the valleys of the body and
the non-existent curves of chest

some traces of hair on his arm
brushed against mine while walking
nicotine, nicotine, caffeine, nicotine
scratches from the bed bugs last night

this poetry is going nowhere
getting entangled in the imagery
of those two people i met
who could never be mine

I imagine them in my existence
Playing with their toes, 
to be near the hills,
In the rains.

I, I want to play with their toes
Make love to them as we sleep
on a hammock, under the warm sun
just after the heavy downpour

creating rainbows without touching 
feeling the love without seeing
erasing the grey-ness around us
omitting the labels that surround us

My two friends.