by Preethi Burnett
(Leeds, United Kingdom)
I allowed you inside me like I allowed no other,
Formless and shapeless within and without me,
Now, you slide through between these reluctant wilting fingers,
Like the particles of sand I imprisoned in the blustery nights and the following tranquil,
Preserved us gentle, wrapped in each other
Wet membrane of skin, moistness within my palm and the liquid eyes that never turned into tears,
Held you in a sheath, should I now let go?
Some dreams cannot be…..if
Little you sense, little you see
Some dreams cannot be…but
May be some dreams cannot be
Hold on fast to them, for if they die
Hughes says that life is a broken-winged bird,
That cannot fly,
Life is a barren field, frozen with snow
Hold on fast, don’t let them go.
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