“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