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Omar Limias Jul 9
My fragile hands protected around yours
Every morning, your gentle fingers roam in my hair
Your sweltering breathing hovers over my neck

You wrap your arms around me- crushing me
Grasping your fist, veins quivering with concentration
Making sure I was there
Really there and really real

Your body heat gives me reassurance.
Omar Limias Jul 8
It is the smell I rise to
It is the smell when my nose touches your shirt
It is the smell when my head lies on your chest

I rub it on me to school
The supermarket
The train
The bus

You left the trace, flourishing
Through my roots
Shifting everywhere I go
Time and beyond will
Not permit
For you to depart.
Omar Limias Jul 8

      and bathes the male chauvinist: at   his   cutting  edge—  

Omar Limias Jul 8
His gentle fingertips brush it
But instead of tranquility
It was tartness
Through the vines that bolted from her tomb
He let it droop,
a necklace.
Its gold was the glistening morning light
Its voice cold as the gold he wore

Her wrinkled hands trickle cold
Pressing on the shimmery gold
She passes over what once was hers

The gold became the blazing sun
Deep inside, broken memories reside

It comes from an aching owner
Wrapped around his neck,



Yet, yearning for comfort, it is there.

— The End —