Illusive
by MELISSA COOK
When you write of
– pure silence –
devouring my lips.
..I stand
within naked flames
like —
Japanese lanterns;
Suspended and insecure
to each verse
you scrawl upon my palm.
I see no more than –
a nameless memory,
and hear you whisper
“Ise omorfi”
to bloomed cheek.
a warrior of sentiment
reading thoughts
like palmistry.
When you speak of;
ever-changing tides
slipping through fingers
I am no more than
sakura within your eyes
and sense no more than
petals upon my spine.
He an illusionist.
Yet I surrender only to
my conscience..
-an echo-
…Fading
like petals upon flower.
“Ise omorfi”..
“Ise omorfi”…
Though he cradles I like
– crescent moons –
awaking me to;
eternal sunsets
and the sound of his voice..
a breeze over the horizon.
“Ise Omorfi …
S’ agapo.”
Translation from Greek:
Ise Omorfi = You’re beautiful
S’ agapo = I love you