My beating heart is a drum
a thunderous rhythm
reciting an epistle of my grief.
A concoction of
togetherness & separation.
There are layers of longing;
of being seen
and seeing
of a single touch
and being touched
of love
and being loved.
I swallow nights in counting kisses-
and envelope the remnants,
sitting as wildflowers on my waist.
A site to behold,
for million nights.
A star to make a wish for eternity,
A church to worship.
