fiction and poetry


A memory of your smell :
an enslavement, so clandestine.
It tunes my arteries to sing,
like the waves do
for purposes unknown.

I ebb away from this nonchalant madness
and turn into a moon-kissed star dust.

I now abhor the lick of light.
It separates us unknowingly.
The dominions of our touch has fallen,
This city of love has no survivors,

Just bottles of unopened whiskeys and fresh roses,looming over this graveyard of our new birth.



3 thoughts on “Dream

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s