Sunday, February 3, 2013

if this was.

vignette letter-

there were photographs 
to dreams,
you would 
in each one of them
always framed 
inside the mellowed contours 
of my palms

this was a poetry 
that could flow through 
the boundaries 
of heaven and earth 
like darwish 
it would then 
consist of just one line 
to infinity 
how I long for 
your feathered touches
and you skin of explored places

this were a home
it would carry no windows or doors
just soft carved walls
for you stay here with me
as there is no other place left now
for us to go

but this 
in all probability 
would be a short letter 
edged with 
my name underneath 
and so 
it would just say of
how even my name here 
is a reminiscence 
of solitude 
without your to accompany it, 
come along.

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