Afternoons

The afternoon is bright.
Far into the richness of the
field fertile with daffodils,
I see those buoyant eyes
glinting under the sharp rays of sun.
Two orbs full of paradoxes manifest
a myriad of emotions enshrouded
by the fervent, dark pupil.
I see Hope and the obstinacy to
conquer happiness
in those two beautiful eyes.
They inspire love,
their gaze replenishing every cell of my body with euphoria.

The flowers sway their heads
with innocence.
I can often relate it with the
pristine, sinless face beholding those
beautiful eyes.
The wind strokes the daffodils and
the wind caresses my face wet with tears.
It feels like his soft, salubrious touch which
exorcises me, refining my heart and soul.
I breathe.
I fill my lungs with the fresh, ingenuous air
and take in the scent of his pneuma.

I hold a cupcake
layered with delicious cream
in my hand.
As I take a soft bite,
my lips get entangled with ecstasy.
I feel an ignition running through my body
as I remember my perched lips resting on and feeling the even and impeccable texture of his skin.
The overpowering sensation of the
monumental kisses peeks inside
the windows of my memories
now and again.
I smile.

I have painted the drapes on the window.
They are designed with
curled and twisted, black and yellow
paint strokes.
And can you imagine?
They too remind me of something I love.
The curls on his hair adorning his face.
Lustrous, opaque, mint, dark black curls.
Just as I could get lost in those eyes,
the dense curls act like a sublime labyrinth.

I spend my afternoons
sitting by the window,
gazing far into the daffodil field and
contemplating the scenario of my
lone room.
This way, I see and feel you everyday
for my melancholia, which likes to engage me the most during the afternoons,
brings you closer to me.
Soon it will be dark and I will lose touch.
The afternoons are blue.
And they will remain so until I meet you.

See you again.
Tomorrow.

Penned by alittlesparrow (1.06.21)