As I turn around
a plate of food in my hand
I lock eyes with you,
my throat suddenly filled with sand.
Your eyes held power,
mysterious, seductive; I ignored my gut
which was telling me to cower
as you were not meant for someone like me.
My gut won and I averted my gaze (very painfully so)
went and sat down with some friends
trying to graze
and made useless small talk, trying to forget you.
I’d never seen someone with so much food on their plates and so much honesty in their eyes; the moment I my eyes met yours, I knew it: we were meant to be. I smiled my best smile, trying to win you over, charming your pants off, but you went away.
Did we not just have a moment there?
Did I just imagine the whole thing?
I hope not. My best imagination couldn’t have conjured up something so real as you.
My brain is mush. But I liked how I took this poem.
My bae, Parvathi over at
Queen Talks and I are attempting these prompts curated by Poetry Falls over on Instagram.
My hands find her eyes from behind the big arm chair and close over them.
She doesn’t let go of the book she’s reading; instead I feel her smile and rolling her eyes.
I laugh and put my lips to her ear lobes, tenderly kissing and biting it. I move over to her forehead, without losing contact with her skin.
I release my hands over her eyes, kissing them, then moving to her nose, her cheeks.
I find her mouth, but i don’t kiss it. I move down, towards her exposed shoulder and neck and collar bone.
As soon as my lips touches her neck, she moans. I’m a goner.
She pulls me closer, and I have to move towards the front, which, frankly, is how i should’ve started in the first place.
I take her book out of her hand and toss it behind me. She protests a bit, but when i find her soft spot, I made sure all she thought about was me.
And this moment.
Something I kept imagining in class instead of listening. I wish I went at least halfway, but I like it here, like this.
This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, by
Parvathi and Me.
I take the book from you
admiring the cover
and trying to figure out what gave you that
dreamy look on your face.
I put it in the cart
when you try and reach for it.
“I’m buying it,”
your eyebrows are all scrunched up,
and your cute little mouth is pursed in
…annoyance? Anger? I can’t tell.
But it is adorable.
I take the book higher, out of your reach,
lean in close and say,
“ I’m buying this for you,”
like your soul is contented and happy.
If buying you a book will get me that
look on your face,
I’m ready to buy you a bookstore.
This is probably the most cheesiest thing that I’ve written but I wanted to write! This is The Spring Palette for the Heart, by Me and
The leaves go
under my feet.
You hate it when I do that,
but you don’t say anything.
As we walk, I hear an extra
for each one of my
as you lace your hand through mine,
clasping it firmly.
I smile up at you as you
thread your fingers through mine.
I know that one of these days,
I will fall and break
and you won’t come to my rescue anymore.
It’s going to hurt me,
but I’m still going to enjoy your touch.
The fire in your eyes
ignites my own in ways that I
my body aches for you when
we are apart, even for minutes.
And I do not know
how i will be able to “be”
without your presence.
A tanka and a haiku combination, because both separately are too short.
I get up from the comfortable
pillow and your warm embrace
and pull on some clothes.
I smile to myself
thinking about the great night
The time is 3:42 AM.
Unless it is extremely important,
I don’t know anybody
who could be here at this time.
I open the door slightly.
Nobody is here.
I frown and close the door.
Now it’s behind me.
I swivel around
to see you leaning
against the bedroom door
you sharp features softened
by the silvery moonlight
looking more beautiful and more desired
than I have ever felt.
You pull me closer
against your body
your skin to my clothes
as it soon becomes,
to my skin.
Sorry about the absence. I tried my best at this. I intended it to become something, but it turned out to be something else. Not disappointed though! Next is last!