She smells of crisp air
Of February. Her breezes
Hallucinate my senses.
And am bemused in her art.
The flavor of her lips,
Warm. Ripe. Juicy like a
Fruit from paradise. In April.
Her laughs I soak. They unbutton
The clothes of sadness. She
Unclothes my soul stark naked.
~In Summer
By: Jaserah Syed
Instagram: @jaz_writes
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