Aria, my Beloved.

A love poem in the Beloved tradition of Rumi.


She dipped her fingers into the sky

and came up blooming.

I thought I had forgotten how to cry

until she moved me.

And on certain lonely nights

we would sit on her porch

and I would get drunk on her laugh.


Her giggle is a melody

that blows bubbles at the moon.


“I want to keep you” she says

then tells me

she wants to put flowers behind my eyes

and in my hair,

and teach my children how to fly,


open armed,

through seas of green grass,

catching stars on their tongues


I could tell she was an angel

by the way she wore her gravity

The way her kisses

melted like Snowflakes

on my tongue.

Her taste lingering in my mouth

long after her goodbye

had left my ears.

I could remember feeling her wings

or was it

her eyelashes

fluttering against my neck,


Her love is an aria

written in kisses

on blushing skin.


The End

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