With callused handsi tastedthe softness of the moonin the coldest windsi discoveredmy soul's warmest fireplacein the roughnessof his stubblethe tenderest love.

and the afterglow...of your gaze...is the onlysweater that I need.

This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm.

Tea is just an excuse.i am drinking this sunset, this evening.and you.

stronger than mountains.a place where my heart feels the safest- underneath his shirt.

i want to stay curled and cosiedand chocolated....foreverin my mother’s arms.

my motheris pure radiance. she is the suni can touchand kissand holdwithout getting burnt.

May the nights always be aglowwith the bliss of the daywith unharmed hands and feetand kissed cheeks.

We hold on to poetry because it lights a fire in our soul and keeps our bodies warm.