Love Story on the Watchtower

At 2 am in the morning, I want to be an elf. Or a hobbit. But definitely not a man. Elves murmur like water in brooks. And white, their dresses. And dragons, they tame. Or a hobbit. Gardening. Pipes. And food. I love smials, I love bare feet. I love curly hair; green, yellow. To fall in love…

Hank

Who is Hank? He is someone I lost. I wasn’t there when I lost him. Only that I cried because I never said a thousand-page monologue. He was supposed to dry my tears and pamper my forehead before kissing me goodnight, but I won’t actually sleep; can’t! because I’ll be thinking, while all night tossing,…

Fingertips Brushing Words

I don’t mourn being loveless. I’m not sad for this sole-ship. I still force to forget First sensations when we’ve met. Because they always tickle, I always smile. and little by little, we spend the while. Yet, I may love you now And yet, I won’t tell you how. I may not mourn, regret and repress, get…

Of Cobwebs Above

I would Often see Those cobwebs above Every time I rub. As I Lift my head to groan, Digging Meters for each breath. After managing To release it out. It is always A matter of who. But I can’t seem To do them justice By what I do – Secretly murdering their dignities For a…