I wanna sing you the song of kisses and

morning of flutes, subtle memories—

where lips moulded as the flutter

of butterflies, I want to swim to

the brim of your laughter.

Dreams are like a punch in the ecstasy,

I dare to be in one of them, where I love

and forgot, I hold onto the strange way

silence stretched out in the stars.

I dream of coming contact with your

warm, it touched—it switched back to

cold again, as if sunlight was never

shown enough.

Motionless, spineless but the wine

was too much to handle in the messy

sheets, so with fixated eyes,

with a monotone smile,

I made an empty song.

You cut back to the moon where

music never whirr on, but I wish for us

to meet again in another universe,

the way fingers glide back in the piano

sheet, I wish for us to be strangers

to love again and again.

— 25th November, 2024.