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 Feb 2020 Erian Rose
Shreya Ghosh
I love you
Doesn't mean I love you

It means your eyes
Are deep enough
For me to dive in
And trust the waters
To keep my secrets

It means your lips
Are never harsh upon me
And they make me happy
Every single time they open

It means your hands
Are with you always
Except when I call them
To hug me and leave traces on me

It means your ears
Never get tired of
What my lips convey
And never will , they respond

It means your heart
Has touched my heart
And they'll never get apart
Like they are in a hug for eternity

It means you are special
It means you are mine
So I can be possessive
And you'll say nothing
I can be jealous too
And you'll never see
My hand leave yours
Or our hearts leave the hug

You are mine
And you will remain mine
 Feb 2020 Erian Rose
Saga
The Girl
 Feb 2020 Erian Rose
Saga
Maybe it was you
The girl I always dreamed of
The one I can’t lose
I LIKE TO SAY YOUR NAME

I like to say
your name

when you're
not here

turn you
into sound

conjure you out of
thin air

so that you appear
before me

dressed in sound
only

memory sketching in
the rest of you

as if sound
was just an outline

and love
colours you in

adding the voice last
so I can hear you say.

"Hello you..!"
and there you are

as present
as present

can be.

I like to say
your name

when you're
not there.
 Feb 2020 Erian Rose
rhionna
one good morning text
20 lovely words
unexpected each time
but greatly adored
a smile in class  
a pull of a heart string  
the infamous good morning text
Your soft lips so tasty
And sweet
Your eyes so bright
Shining in the sky tonight,
Your touch so gentel
And warm it warms my heart...
Your like a work of art
Truly Beauitful,
Your the most beautiful woman  
In the world
And I'll be forever in
Love with you.....
She's Beautiful
 Feb 2020 Erian Rose
love
Colours
 Feb 2020 Erian Rose
love
When I was red,
You were blue.
Then I turned to green just for you.

What you wanted was violet,
But all I could be was indigo.

Orange was your favourite colour,
I wrote you a song in yellow.

For  your acclamation,
I mixed all those colours.

Frantically tried to undo it,
When all of them discoloured.

I sat there reflecting on what was left of me.

I finally became the colour that I wanted to be.
all these I see, in realized eyes and whimsical musings,
in perfect silence, for the Sunday city morning
is worshiping the coming day in a church like silence,
where each patron fills in the empty sounds
with hymns of their own making...by moving their lips
in fervent unspokeness
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