I like the sound of your piercing gaze as I melt into the darkness of your iris,
as it hits me with light,
your voice is as sweet as ice
to my ears as you call me, “My Mona.”
We stand for hours
separated by corrugated steel,
and I steal a still,
shot,
of you slowed down,
printed into my eyes.
I cannot define,
this time, in my mind
yet calm
in mind,
muted acrylic –
a printed artwork.
I read over these moments.
I flipped through our story.
I cannot define,
Yet I find,
that bees are earlier than birds.
And I prefer,
When you dress me up,
intimately,
tracing me,
I feel,
I see,
it all, a little differently.
Frequently,
I hold your frequency.
Blending hands, in a taxi,
before washed out blue.
Throwing sacred water at trees.
Unpractical though necessary.
A blinking sky,
on our way to a world that loved us.
A trailing muse.
Cold morning air
blowing
on your iced cheek,
like the hum of morning bees,
to the city
rooting for us,
two cities.
Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 3:38 PM UTC
I like the sound of your piercing gaze as I melt into the darkness of your iris,
as it hits me with light,
your voice is as sweet as ice
to my ears as you call me, “My Mona.”
We stand for hours
separated by corrugated steel,
and I steal a still,
shot,
of you slowed down,
printed into my eyes.
I cannot define,
this time, in my mind
yet calm
in mind,
muted acrylic –
a printed artwork.
I read over these moments.
I flipped through our story.
I cannot define,
Yet I find,
that bees are earlier than birds.
And I prefer,
When you dress me up,
intimately,
tracing me,
I feel,
I see,
it all, a little differently.
Frequently,
I hold your frequency.
Blending hands, in a taxi,
before washed out blue.
Throwing sacred water at trees.
Unpractical though necessary.
A blinking sky,
on our way to a world that loved us.
A trailing muse.
Cold morning air
blowing
on your iced cheek,
like the hum of morning bees,
to the city
rooting for us,
two cities.