under a torrential shower of iridescent peacock feathers, i spy the cosmic flautist, whose conch shaped eyes ooze boundless compassion, his dusky complexion mirrors the night sky, as the twinkling stars in the firmament stealthily become his garland
what will he do next?
steal the heart of the next damsel who comes his way?
start another world war to fight for justice?
or open his mouth to show us the whole universe within?
i want to love you like a lazy sunday morning staying in bed taking our time sipping coffee memorising every freckle like the constellations in the sky white sheets and tangled limbs with the scent of a memory fresh on our lips.