Who is he?
His eyes, they hide the secrets of the sea,
and as his gaze washes over me,
it makes me suffocate, leaves me breathless.
Who is he?
The one that appears in my dreams
with eyes shaped like lotus petals,
and body painted by shades of brown.
Who is he?
The one that leans in closer to my face,
my lips,
watching tones of red swim upon my cheeks
as his hands rest on my waist.
As I write poems, twirl my pen on the paper,
he reads every line I have written
and the soft wind caresses his hair.
If this is not intimacy, what is?
He kisses the mole next to my eye
like we have been lovers from time immemorial.
And when I awake from my slumber
I would still smell his scent, feel forlorn.
Why do I go on to mourn for a love that is not real?
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 8:59 AM UTC
Who is he?
His eyes, they hide the secrets of the sea,
and as his gaze washes over me,
it makes me suffocate, leaves me breathless.
Who is he?
The one that appears in my dreams
with eyes shaped like lotus petals,
and body painted by shades of brown.
Who is he?
The one that leans in closer to my face,
my lips,
watching tones of red swim upon my cheeks
as his hands rest on my waist.
As I write poems, twirl my pen on the paper,
he reads every line I have written
and the soft wind caresses his hair.
If this is not intimacy, what is?
He kisses the mole next to my eye
like we have been lovers from time immemorial.
And when I awake from my slumber
I would still smell his scent, feel forlorn.
Why do I go on to mourn for a love that is not real?
