Love letters

In countries where love stories are censored, 

lovers write to each other in codes.

And they call out to each other

from their graves, 

to haunt the silence of the night. 

Lovers, when they can't suckle

the sweet honey of desire

from each others bosoms, 

they suckle it 

from the bosom of longing, 

unconcerned, 

challenging the distances that be! 

Like Sun birds, 

on a lazy winters' afternoon, 

feasting on the luke-warm nectar of honey-suckles, 

leisurely, 

in no hurry, no place else to be! 

 

And so one day I'll write a poem about love, 

and write it in unsparing metaphors

and brutal epithets, 

and call it 'Pegions', 

and write it down on my body, 

and write it down in blood, 

and hand it to you,

wrapped in a colourful Keffiyeh, 

so it'd be as honest as truth itself, 

but only you would grasp the trope!

January, the 30th, 2024