I’m painfully aware
of the existence of
my hands,
When they are not
touching you.

Velvety morning rise in the West.
Apricot-skin like, you appear.
While half moon is still here.
You announce the sun
to greet the moon before she goes.
To shine her tender light elsewhere.
Ocean waters change with their interplay.
Peaceful beach morning awaits.




Shell ✨🐚

old story remembered  from the beach
that warm afternoon while all were playing
relaxing


the hunted tried not to sleep
there
for fear of being robbed or found

what i've noticed is
love usually simmers into a boil
the heat of it becomes
bubbly laughter, its warmth is the
evaporation of the senses
its result fogs up my lenses
until all i can see is the smoke
then if i want, i could either
bring it down and let it cool
or let it reach a fever pitch
and watch it overflow
and instead of filling in the shape
it breaks the container it was in
it takes a while for me to decide
whether i got burnt
or have become alive

I long to see me
As you do,
Entirely foreign and
Mundanely beautiful.
I wish to trace
The curves of my lettering,
Attempting to decode
A message I have already
Memorized.
I have already unraveled
All of my mysteries but you
Still startle at each creak
Of the floor, each squeak
Of the door.
Nevertheless,
That elsewise wonder
Is only reserved for
Strangers.

She was giddy
A sparkle laying behind her eye
When surrounded
by collections
Collections, crafted and created by her
A few Trinkets,
A handful of Treasures
And a steaming cup of tea