The scent of burnt cigar on my sleeves Will always be remembered. Late night conversations, with a glass Of warm water beside us, it is perfect scenery Of two individuals looking for something common.
The unusual glances and the pretty touches Under the white ceiling was the language of Two unidentified cadavers that was Waiting for the sun to come out: The start of yesterday.
When day ends, ours begins. Usual rituals of ours were hidden Under the covers: exploring what is forbidden, Saying things over and over again. Hands clasped together, Singing songs long forgotten. And we asked: When will we decide to let each other go?
There was no romance. There was no lust. Yet we allowed our worlds to collide and Eat each other whole and alive.
A feast of two bodies longing for companionship. A discourse where words were useless. Walking opposite directions, leaving behind Memories of what happened yesterday.
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About emanilapoetry emanilapoetry formally opened on 19 June 2005 and is an online community of more than 400 writers and poets from various countries. As at 28 Sept 2007, this site has more 6,862 poem entries in archives.
