I Thought You Were Perfect.

“If this skin could want me…”

Your shoulders are too soft.

I hope this isn’t a Summer thing.

I can’t help smelling your hair

Losing myself in those spirals.

If I could only attach my heart with these words.

The yellow weeds have come back and I hope my light disinfects the Earth.

I never claimed to know anything and yet I prefer the full moon.

Let’s have some spiritual adventures and leave behind an orgy of cigarette bodies.

Mountains of ash on the streets.

And our nocturnal meetings in a car.

We are in the parking lot from somewhere in my past.

I hope to recreate you one day


Like you once were to me.

(c) A.R. Minhas 2020


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