What am I?


You’re the blush that winter brings and the gleam of summer rays. You’re the curve of a smile, the blink of kohl lined eyes. You’re the grace of ballet and the swish of the robe. You’re the heat of passion and the tingling cold. You’re an electric zing, you’re caressing silk, you’re butterfly wings on creamy skin. You’re hot chocolate on a wintry morn, you’re ice cubes pulled across my arm.

You’re the strange melody that plays on loop and fills my head with radiant dreams. You’re the twinkle fairy’s easy charm, my pied piper of Hamelin. You’re tingling laughter and searing light and piano keys that musically glide. You’re the snug sweater, binding bandage holding together rattling insides.

You’re the cocaine of the poetry of heartbeats. Your soft sigh is my high.

Your zig-zag hair, your criss-cross ways, your blink-back tears, your in-out dimples, your shush-shush words? You’re exhilarating.

You’re mine.




About meenavid

Pensive thinker. Jumping bean. Loud thoughts. Loudmouth. Extreme. Ordinary. Twenty and something but what the heck, still a kid. Make a happy mess everywhere- or not. Indecisive. You see? Sigh.

Make a mess

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