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A Night's Call

it is five a.m and his voice is a hymn i composed to honour my body. his history is now mine, and I have sewn myself to his favourite memory. his baritone is cinnamon flavoured - the words, crushed blueberries he has plucked out of the garden of his skin and from which I will make the most insatiable type of wine. the smoke billowing from his mouth is my scent - the ittar I adorn my name with, and this phone is the bridge between our beds - the miles that separate our worlds, he asks me if I know how long it takes to fall in love. Just long enough for him to say hello.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 5/29/2019 3:54:00 AM
I like your poem keep it up Thank you
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Date: 4/10/2019 6:54:00 PM
Nice poem, Simran:-) Welcome to Poetry Soup!
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Date: 4/8/2019 10:27:00 PM
Quite lovely Simran.
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Date: 3/25/2019 1:22:00 AM
it's a call of love!// beautiful expression
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