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yan Apr 2020
bubblegum beat
rhythmic uprising.  
makes my chest ache with sheer joy.
four months indistinguishable from 4 seconds
from first glance to the 783rd
your hazel eyes will forever remind me of the brownies we will bake.
while the sound of your voice signals for spring
and frost in my stomach to thaw,
the drizzle of rain will not compare to the safety i feel in your arms.
steal my thoughts!
i'm always with you outside my window.
eyes glazed with bliss and upturned lips.
cherry aftertaste
as sugary as the feeling of your skin.
yan Apr 2020
the smell of your sleep
could bring clouds to their weeping knees.
defensive facade of my black chipped fingertips serve no purpose against your curled brown lashes
flutter.
only for a hiccup in your slumber.
smile like a sunflower,
smell just as sweet.
smell of your hair
smell of your sleep.
to play with your curls
filter them through my fingers
like sand in a child's small hands.
hand in yours.
your head rests so well in my lap.
yan Apr 2020
the taste of silver feels like gold on my skin.
break my structure to make me begin.
what i'll regret in the morning;
chilli flakes
have lost their spice overnight.
left over numb.
with every pulse i feel my doing.
undone and free of internal agony.
at last !
nothing.
sweet, fruitful, tangy amber
nothing.
but only for a blink.
even she's growing up !
she's growing up fast !
a big one like her requires more.
blinking quicker, eyes wide and open keen.
illusion of curiosity;
a caramel glaze over burnt toast
of intention.
go ahead, take a bite.
i assure you my liquid sugar will mask my pain.
turn the head,
find cotton white of surrender stained with rage and defiance.
eyes will shut
for
a long

blink.
yan Apr 2020
2 weeks it's been since your skin on mine
hand in my hair, fingers round my neck.
a fortnight young memory, rapidly ageing
it appears to me that there is no end in sight.
too young to travel, too young to defy.
all too much aching for me to survive.
to crave your touch, your voice and your smile
has become the only routinely act these past two weeks.
your smell has faded from the clothes you left behind,
but my yearning has only begun gradating into light.

agnosticism disregarded
i pray for an end to this
for two weeks to extend no longer till you're once again in my arms.
yan Mar 2020
yellow ribbon, oversized glasses,
bent over a page in concentration.
now the ribbon naps on the table, letting
caramel cascade fall free.
pencil at her fingertips, tip resting on her lips.
Though my eyes tire on my own paper,
her gaze weighs heavy on my soul.
abrupt.
we're up!
and so is our time together for the day.
forbidden, we know.
but not even her lingering scent
bids me goodbye
or 'see you later'.
perhaps in my slumber will she
pass me a wink once more,
or sneak me a smile.
yan Mar 2020
cool liquids warm our throats,
send our bodies into unanimous bliss.
frequencies through the air
we all echo, throats raw with youth,
moving souls, aching chests.
this feeling could last an eternity,
and i’d ask for it to be prolonged further.
feel arms around me, envelope me into the darkness,
flash flooding of colours and blindness.
surrender to the frequencies and souls surrounding,
depressants causing depression welcomed as sedatives;
as stimulants.
for actions and words otherwise forbidden,
hold me, cradle me, like a codependent child.
let me ride this wave of euphoria into sobriety.
yan Mar 2020
bright and young.
but thick black curtains do not permit.
drawn tight like lips sealed,
only a single ray may be seen.
but bound to a corner i must be,
for that ray i seek i cannot reach.
wrists ****** from tugging at shackles,
breathing heavy as the dark cackles.
pray for cease of long-lived omen.
pray that soon the curtains will open.
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