sonnet one hundred fifty five

impoverished and driven
kneeling at the foot of your
fragrant recollection,
energy thriving in the midst

of what seemed to be
an eon of separation -
but this is only a figment
of what we are made of,

a grain, an iota, an almost
unnecessary trail toward
loneliness - let me stop you now

and show you a path where
flowers burn at the sign
of you and me, clasping and wishing.

sonnet one hundred fifty four

the world has come to its
peace, the revolution put
to a halt, sudden and indulging,
as i gaze at you in awe,

how tangents and exponents
have gathered to create
a perfect shape, a perfect
symmetry, a truth that

cannot be questioned, an answer
to be sought, a prayer to be
uttered and a destiny to be

fulfilled - all seconds to be
hailed immutable and insufferable,
all moments to be offered to you.

sonnet one hundred fifty three

eyes shut, lips tight against
the murk of emptiness,
the evening angered by the
rain relentless and hovering,

despite the darkness, i know
that nothing in you is
inadequate, that nothing
in you is accidental,

your sanctity defined by
your own holy hands and
furtive wishes, the veil

of your light lifted by
an origin, a for that requires
nothing else to exist.

sonnet one hundred fifty two

we break from the unfeeling,
sacrilegious habit of doubting
our capacity to love, our desire
to remain in this one

tender instant, we free ourselves
from the fragmented memories
our hurt has delved into and
crush the seconds it was

ever allowed - this soul and
these hands are fallible, beloved,
but your brightness has

blessed my faith with the courage
to continue believing we will
emerge from this, we will triumph.

sonnet one hundred fifty one

your laughter erupts
from within stones, within
thoughts, from within
bare and pensive silence

chaining my heart to
the sound, the gentle whisper
of our memory,
your laughter has vanquished

shadows and has allowed
the light of midnight
find its fullness once more -

and such a miracle would
suffice, such a gift would
be enough today.

sonnet one hundred fifty

argued tenderness bruising
the night, singing to an
unwritten note, a piece
of light crawls inside

my head, playing with the
vision of skies and sunflowers,
picking apart sorrows and
miseries like they would

expire and die the next,
i pull out, from the edge of
our recollection this one

beginning, solitary and afire,
perfumed by desirous, wounding,
familiar intimacies.

sonnet one hundred forty nine

no deep waters or rumbling
seas tonight, just a notion,
just a thought, just a moment
of listening to your voice

whilst the pages thirst
for more of you and me,
for more of that which
we cannot see,

no more lullabies to swing
this head to and from our
bed, no more arresting

moonlight groping the shadow
we make dancing, no more
hesitations, no more confinements.

sonnet one hundred forty eight

the walls of this room
welcome undefeated, silence
clamoring for the anguish
of this desire, aching to be

marked and embraced,
opened and scarred and bled
christened by the fire of
your gaze, a white light,

a muted affinity that
erupts from blinded, colossal
irises, the color effervescent,

playing upon the deepened
cut of some more trembling
hands, shaken in flesh.

sonnet one hundred forty seven

the creases on your hand
sheltered by the night sky,
warm like an ember, full
of intent like the rain,

your face sheltered by
the peaceful hymn of
the sunrise, by the undaunted
shadow of a dream

the surface of a
sad, waxed, silent moon,
wandering along a knife's

edge - how do we overcome
the ramblings and release,
quick, sudden, in between.

sonnet one hundred forty six

you have yet to teach me
how to put all your tears
in a jar and tuck them
away, or how to pick all the

flowers your laughter brings
forth, or how to sanctify
distances and endure a journey,
you have yet to teach me

how to be all these for
you everyday - your breath,
your light, your delight,

you have yet to teach me
that desire feeds upon itself
and consumes without caution.

sonnet one hundred forty five

here, be gentle, an irrevocable
invitation offered only to
you - my lifetime -
here, touch me and kiss me

here, i beg you to look at
me like you have never
loved or laid eyes on anyone
before or since

here, let the silence drown
in laughters and cries when we
make love, here, forget that

this very minute will end,
we won't let it, here, where
skin means conduction.

sonnet one hundred forty four

diving into lashes, into hairs
woven to resemble the most
beautiful, i am stuck someplace
dreaming that your face

resurface from sunrises,
caging the light and fluttering
against atoms, hovering above
sparks, fireworks, a thousand

and one ways to unescape,
love lost in its own wild,
incessant laughter, lost in its

own unlosing, meditating to
the grace that is your name,
finding fragrance, finding mist.

sonnet one hundred forty three

the conundrum roused by
the echoing sound of still
and unperturbed glances
emanating from you,

the world flung its arms
around me, a feeling that
begs of emptiness, it is
never the same without you

roses find its way to the
murk, wilts and dies,
losing the red, losing the sanity

aching for your permanence,
resurrecting your laughter that
always held the meaning of meanings.

sonnet one hundred forty two

thoughtlessly, a word spills,
a scar never heals, the night
resolves to silence, the sunset
succumbs to its splendor

your face etched in the
sky, awaiting the rain
to drown what is left
of my heart and what

is left, just that -
the eloquence of your gaze
maims and breaks my

reserve, halts and impedes
our journey from
ever taking a different turn.

sonnet one hundred forty one

you come to me like a
dark song would cross
borders and slither its way
through the pandemonium -

with a penchant for sad
things and most of them
miserable and tainted
and unpaved

you come to me like a
dark song hailing the night
sacred and pure

with memories only of allies
where we met, of roads
where we left.