The beauty brought by your senses
might serve just as evolution planned.
Or perhaps your mind drifts into wonder-
evolution's greatest, unintended gift?

Are there birds
who celebrate their tetrachromacy?
Do you celebrate
the power of your mind?

Do our close kin in nature
ask these kinds of questions?
Our ancestors surely did.
How many humans do?

Times have changed, people have not
so I read, shelf after shelf in many languages
in books preserved for centuries
so self-evidently describing
the world as it once was

In the evening I experience their adventures
at night I dream of them, every day
they colour my body in a different way

my body longing
to be touched
and to lie eye to eye
longing for the embrace
of arms and a laugh

for sounds and smells
for the cold and the fire
of love

I called you my soulmate
Not because of your beautiful smiles
Not because of the heat from your heart
Not because of your lively laughter
Not because of your flowery scent
Not because of your sweetest kisses
A soul doesn't need any senses
To know when it is in love

the silence of your shadow is louder when you don’t watch it –
as the memory of someone in your mind, is just a fictional
character of them. this life: walking on the thin lines of what the
eyes have seen; the unseen waits for us at the great beyond.

the narrative of love still waits on loads of blank spaces –
empty smiles towards pretty faces. but until we find the one
that helps us smile in true depth, the ones we meet are truly
just strangers in the end.

and the days love to dash in sands of time – for no one really
has all the time in the world to live out a thousand lifetimes.
still, we’ve lived a thousand experiences of a thousand lives
in this one life. living as bodies, connected by familiar tears,
stranded or motivated by fears, the highs given by the touch
of two skins, we live as bodies, die from our bodies and will
live on as spirits in the end.

                                   and to that end, the end of this poem.

her style is cold figure
kisses that are a heat seeker –
we lock eyes and I’m so eager
     our passion is equal, though I’m

divided

between which parts of her I love the most
"your soul is what holds it all"
in every action she does; smell, taste, sight,
sound or touch –
                   I hear her soul’s call.

Exhaust fumes don't stink

because now the streets are free --


of the horse droppings.

Words… are lost by touch; perhaps I am talking too much… that
much is clear – a tongue testing its own fortune. The moment I beheld
your visage, a weight settled upon my skin, while the fragrance of
your skin dug tremors through my heart – a quiver igniting up to the
nerves at my fingertips. Our hands met with a less than firm embrace – yet deep down, I yearned for a hug, to ascend the staircase of your
neck and find sanctuary in the chamber of your lips.

Like a swarm of bees drawn to a blossom, seeking the sweet nectar of
connection – our fleeting moments together ignited thoughts of
seizing the flower of time, “she’ll love me, she loves me now,” believing it’s merely a matter of time.

I hear you summon my name; it resonates like a hymn of adoration –
your celestial presence beckoning me into the realm of your words.
And so, we embark once more, at the crossroads of language where I
find myself either bereft of expression or talking too much … you
know what, let’s abandon the chatter and kiss instead, for our hearts
speak a language far more profound. I’ve been overthinking too much.