photo by Yaniv Azoulay

Words

When the words hit shallow palms came sadness,
gone are my hopes to fall midway to solar plexus
to catch the sight of butterfly,
to maybe ask hey why.

To catch her look behind,
alarmed by privacy of tone.
To feel beyond

You meant (for her) to drown in your mind,
embrace your sacred silence,
interpret with one’s heart
in hopes to frame this gesture timeless.

It meant to deepen exposition
with darker shadows of allure,
to crystallize authentic moment,
not to be denouement to it all.