Midnight blue

It’s midnight bluethe fire inside your chesta melting snowstormin an aching needto prove itself. A withering cry of anger stilllingering on your lips,like rust on a golden frame;so boldly out of place,yet so softly,so achingly unread. It’s midnight blue,the color outside the windowthat my nightmares anddaydreams escape through. Unshifted and unstable,this cruel desire to plant aContinue reading “Midnight blue”

The warmth of my tea.

By: Yomna Ameer. The warmth of my tea;a visible grey ghostwith a vintage smell,alluringly dancing.So loudly replacing the porch’ssilence with my escalating unease.The moon is hushed.He is a shade of agrieving pearl, tonight.He takes the night as a stage,and narrates a whisperedgoodbye betweenthe breaths of two parting lovers.Though tonight my eyes onlysee the smoke thatContinue reading “The warmth of my tea.”