oh to be so high
to watch the world as it sleeps
glow bright when it wakes
About the Creator
Camillia Simonds
Stories carry us away. They are the fabric of humanity that holds us together. I'm taking a journey through the magical world of imagination, and I'd like to invite you to join me. Here's to a whole new world.
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress6 days ago in Poets
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