Sometimes I think, Love comes in small pockets. Small enough to hold buttons Button brown eyes, lazy and playful. Small enough to hold vials of honey Honey words that have been whispered in between kisses. Small enough to hold flowers Yellow painted flowers and pink ones littered on the road. Small enough to hold a few coins Coins for a smoke, and a little cup of icecream. Small enough to hold a few seconds, Just for a while, as time pauses. Hitched on a breath- I reach for a little something In your pocket And in mine.
There are sugar cubes sitting still. Cubes with volume length X breadth X height. Almost perfect in their being. Machine manufactured. At 4PM on a Friday, I fold into myself. Two, four, sixteen times All the chaos and untidiness Neatly pressed to fit a Sugar cube.
I sit patiently by a cup of tea. Waiting to melt and become something beyond myself. For these days. I can’t sit with myself. Myself as a concept is corroding my mind.
If all the empty space is squeezed out of atoms, humanity will fit in a sugar cube. Two sugar cubes side by side. My humanity, and humanity. Same length X breadth X height.
Tea is hot and my palms are cold around a single cup. Twice a day, each day. Like clockwork. A square space on a blank wall. Machine manufactured. Maybe being a machine will save my mind.
Butterflies dance around my head A bonfire with the flames licking air Delicious cookies melting at my fingertips There is so much warmth in this night Can you feel the love in my eyes As I hide my gaze from the world Just for you, I open up myself As a whole Dreams are exposed leaves to the sun Growing, nurturing thoughts Of a together.
But you are so far, Come close It will be worth, I promise.
Access prose and poems in my book, “Dreaming in a Fish Bowl”!