i approach your palm
with cinnamon lips,
blessed by the insight
of a green tea leaf,
so that your skin
may learn from my breath
the pace of wonder,
with which to map
my continents,
sewed to each other
with chime-like echoes,
reminding you of
andromedan chains
and shadowed gods.
my paths of milky thoughts
expose themselves
to dying cobwebs
and petals of eyes,
slowly waltzing
across the aurora’s arms
and straight into the clutch
of your eyelids –
yes, lover mine,
with a bit of hope
and the help of optic laws,
my tears, perceived
inverted by your retina
will draw me a smile sometime…



© Liliana Negoi


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