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Ayesha  Sep 2021
Still not
Ayesha Sep 2021
It is strange and scary
To think so,
Still, I do
If I had not known music
I would’ve still known you
Still would’ve heard
The inarticulate whispers of your gown
Still then,
Gentle lashes silhouetted
Upon a sharp gaze

For the moon does not rise and set
Merely for its night
And the Mayna birds sing
But little to boast
For who dare boast but I
Who speaks and speaks, on, on of you

And they tire and groan
Who is this?
'Bet we could flicker a tad bit prettier
A sea’s sigh gentler than this leaf
That lives and lives, on, on in you'
Try then, I say, just try

Every dawn and dawn, they sing
Every dark and dusty blue
What do you think?
Curiosity tilts their heads
And I smile through my laughs
Still not, still not

And they wilt a little
Quietening down for a new show
Before a new sun’s birth
Before another shadowed sky

It is sweet and smooth
The envious mimicry
Of silver and song

Still not though, still not

No music I wish to wade in
Just the touch and touch of her breaths
22/09/2021

This would’ve not been possible without the aid of: our boring social studies professor
Ayesha  Nov 2020
nothing
Ayesha Nov 2020
while here is the moon
sun—I dare not see
and thee—

stars under our bleak forest
and jasmines
and Mayna birds who pluck them away

this vacant, insipid ocean;
with dead ravens and crows
—so full
and free.

Petals tied to the bird
bird—to leaf

I, thee—the bee nest
I, thee—the honey

I, thee— the feast
cleaned and cooked
then beautified and gnawed away

while here is your shallow
caverns— I shan’t know

bitter honey
—and thee.

sun—I dare not see
I, thee— the nothing

bound and tied to a single chain
shore and her betrothed sea
—and how they kiss and never meet

I, thee—
the nothing.
filled to the brim, this empty chalice.
as the ****** wine stirs
—restlessly patient

I, thee—
the nothing.
Whisper this poem.

— The End —