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 Nov 2017 Madhav Mehra
alex
when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.
k
 Nov 2017 Madhav Mehra
C P X
She sat on the bridge
as an unnatural bird
might perch above a river
writing silent music
and laughed
and looked me in the eye
and suddenly the sand storms
whirling about in our minds
settled with our gaze

She was familiar with
the terrain of my emotions
and showed me that map
of my heart drawn in the stars
and smiled
as she stroked my hair
and showed me what love is
if such a poetry existed
it did when our eyes met

She immediately knew
what I was dreaming
or why sleep is faith
if she felt our unity
and asked
the tightrope question
with curious apathy
but she pulled me close
and our lips converged

— The End —