Get Your Premium Membership

Read Urdu Poems Online

NextLast
 

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 © Simran Mendon

NextLast



BudgieParrotLove.com