The only part of my day
That I look forward to
Is when I go to bed
And lay there making up scenarios
In my head.

I think of comebacks
To 8th grade bullies.
I think of witty retorts
To my mother's snide comments.
I think of intelligent things to add
To conversations I had months ago.

I think of all the things
I was too scared to say.

And in my mind
I say them.
And pretend how things would be different
If only I had the courage to speak.

What if
          I
                                                  ­Fall
In
              Love
With
      A
       Poet?
What if he mesmerises me
       With his lines?
What if
        His words touch me
        And kiss
           Through my skin?
     What if i search for
Him
Everyday
And
      Travel through
              His words
    And meet him
                  Somewhere
       And
We
       Become bare
          And he caresses
Me
          With every
      Stanza
And
       Here
           I am
                Again
Searching
           For him,
    Wanting
Him
        With
                 All
                      Desire
Waiting
             For
                 His
                   Next
                      Poem
                         To
                            Take
                             ­ Me
                          To
                       His
                   World
                Where
             We
          Will
        Lay
      Bare
   What if
               I
                  Fall in love
                      With
                  A
             ­         Poet?

© Evna-Luna

why pluck
the jasmine
at my window...

what will I tell
the breeze,  
that go follow

its withering  
among idols
framed pictures

incense fumes  
severed plucked
presented wreath

homage to the gods,  
or will I sway the
bees, a telepathic

signboard painted
of dour directions,
none shall heed

even as petals
pucker away
toothless mouths

nibbling
nothingness...
but there!

within a clawed
green hold
a clasped

delicate
white inch of
a cold moon

jasmine,
at my
window...

The sorrow is yours,
As much as it's mine,
Your heart has rights to its tears,
The same way mine cries.

The treasured moments,
Are tucked,
In the curve of my lips,
Just the way they, sometimes, creep to your cheeks,
And make you blush.

The nostalgia, the sweet pang behind them,
Can be read in your eyes,
Just as obviously as they show in mine.

The sorrow is yours,
As much as it's mine,
Your heart has rights to its tears,
The way mine cries.

Don't bother drawing lines,
We are bound to cross,
My heart is crazy,
Just as bad as yours.

The rumors that transcend,
Like wildfire in dry woods,
My contribution to these stories,
Are as much as yours.

Give words to these memories,
A tune to these words,
The old tune that you'll hum,
Will belong to me, as much as it belongs to you.

My verses,
And your prose,
Tell the same tale,
Of same loss.

This sorrow is yours,
As much as it's mine.

i.

branches of black night
the rain taps on the roof
everything is unguarded
a bird breaking open the sky like
a dark tear.

ii.

our love, rooted to
the earth, scattering
bright oceans
tender as a star.


iii.

dance of love
limbs wild and joyful
lull of a kiss.

iv.

ocean breaking, each wave,
flowing back to its watery song,
flooding and flowing,
flooding and flowing.

a rain is falling,
on the crack’d earth

a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us

how do we return this present,  
this overwhelming love,
endless kisses you shower,
in your every drop

a rain is calling,
on a thunder drum

a rain is singing,
come, ye all come

look the well is swell,
bare earth rustle green again,
how an elusive peacock cries
out the rain's endless names,

a rain is bending,
the mighty banyan tree

a rain is chasing,
cobra, ants and bees

how the sea rages in anarchy,
its heart is majestic today

cling of old things vanish,
in a flowing disarray

a rain is falling,
on the cracked earth

a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us