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