Listen sweet thing; I’m not very political
And it seems like you’re pretty basic
And simply enjoy the sun, too
And strawberries, ripe fruits,
Chocolate cake, smiling
Hugging and caressing
Laying on the beach, bare
Making love and enjoying life.
What else is life but a tasty quench from succulent fruits?
Sweet goods, sunlight, and warm weather
Wide embraces, soft kisses behind the ears
Short chats and easy laughs
What else is life but cooing talks
And sweet sweet touch
You have a way of surprising me. Your show-stopping eyes… I swear that it’s still; it’s a painting. You’re a piece of some marvelous artwork. When I least expect it, you walk into the room and just glow
heaven’s pure white light.
The life in your face
The sun’s tender kisses on your skin. I didn’t know you could almost be my tone.
Who are you, who are we?
You have an uncanny ability
To leave me breathless.
That stark white collar against the back of your darkened neck. An unexpected bolt of lightning electrifies my heart. You look back for a split second, and stagger at my golden hue. I’m glad I could do it to you. Glad you could see it too. I always thought I could outshine you, but you out-did me boy. I’m stupefied. With those shimmering stubbles framed around your nape,
(Can I touch it?)
That look of utter demand you carry. Do you want me to say something?
Standing before me. Made of sleek, smoking ice
Making me burn
Dancing, at your feet.
You’re a handsome, educated man. You can find another chick easily. It’ll be harder for me; being this shy. And just as finicky. I’ll be better off caretaking for animals out there in the boonies. Better off watching the streets under the hot afternoon sun on a boring, dull day. Or taking a walk along hilly landscapes with a jacket on. Cutting vegetables with a knife. Brewing something in the stove. Making a bonfire. Sitting on a rock and watching the sunset over the valley. Just trying to live.
Why am I teary unexpectedly? Could it be the love for my grandparents, the loss of a family member, goodbyes of all kind,
The limping dog down the street
Quick infatuations, and false expectations
Sweet motherland, who seeks no expectations
Being sick in this heaven full of empathy
Asking for nothing in return, but only to inhale the scent of mother’s cooking
In the arms of my homeland that rocks me gently while I weep, passing time, watching the streets and making the best out of each hour, as slowly as can be, as if time is way too quick to pass on by, with my friend by my side; the kind sun from dawn till dusk.
Sitting by the fire that is morning sunlight
Bathing in its warm hue
Ridding the body of shivers and coolness
Kindling the soul within, like ignition from a lighter
Embraced by the sun’s calming rays,
Healed and protected
To go back to paradise. To feel the soft, hot, sun crawl around painted skin. To let the ocean waves tease legs; leave it with a taste of some salty, pungent memory. And to let the warm breeze blow all troubles away. To be able to close eyes and breathe in sweet air that carries away the flimsy scarf against the body. To lay in hot sand and move with music from the headphones, while making marks on the ground like some squirming insect. And to let it make marks on the skin like it’s some celestial pattern. Sand all over the skin, in the corners of the mouth. Sand on lashes and sand tangled up in hair. The taste of grit; pulverized reality. The taste of invigorating lips, refreshing. The feel of sweat; clingy, immersed, surrounding, gratifying. And the smell of musk with it is the smell of gripping love. The ferventness of wild nights and crazy passions. To jump into the ocean and surge with the waves under midnight stars. Obsessions. To play like fish and to love like an amphibian. It’s time to drop everything, and go back to paradise.