His eyes spoke profoundly what his lips couldn't utter.
©Sonia Ettyang

today i woke up to see you next to me
softly, your life breathed out
...
and then back in

your hair was a mess,
sticking out in random places
looking at you like that made me want to leave marks on you
the kind that only you and i could remember and see

the sun hits your face,
as my fingers reach your face,
my lips brush the top of your head
and i'm at peace

The best writing is that which
Is raw, the kind of raw that oozes out of cupcakes,
And the kind of raw that is bright bubble gum pink on meat.
The kind of writing that the poet doesn’t
Think all the way through with their mind,
But has been thinking about for months
In their heart and just couldn’t find the
Words to say it.
Because poems that are raw aren’t just ugly;
They’re beautiful.

There’s a warmth
slowly building
deep in my heart.
Every time I look at you,
every time we touch,
I feel it,
so close to becoming
a flame.

Everything feels natural around you;
You don’t push me to an edge
before I’m ready to leap.
We’ll jump together
when the time comes,
but until then
we enjoy this lovely stroll.