*There should be no eyes
That could travel with you, these eyes,
Having seen home in your eyes,
Brows, your doubled moon, pronating,
Both getting a massage, and lips,
Naked like soft fruits, as I think
Of my islanded country,
Of getting one more
For you. Hands, not
Wanting to let go of your hand,
Its creases, portending love
Or not. And there's so much
Treasure like your chest,
Undiscovered.
I have been told of them, all of them,
Yet, to have been blessed
To experience things first hand,
Is a thing of forever. Your heart
Steady things which I couldn't,
This gaze, the lightest mood,
A ballpoint pen,
Not to mention your laughter,
Unbridled, and free, as I could only
Describe them like the hunger
Or a craving for pandesal,
This bread of my youth.
You, the thought of you,
Immensity,
Too much, too deep,
Though you only reached me,
Like a lost pup.*
© 2015 J.S.P.