Affection

It is 4 pm/ & i am at my raven desk, turning my grief into love poems. It is another season in July when rain moonwalk on the window glasses- in the same deserted diary I smudged my first break-up poem; I called out to my ex I could not bring back with metaphors. // I know the terminologies of a defunct love. I.e late replies/ 12 missed calls & 3 failed dinner nights. I have known the taste of rotten heartbreak, It whirls your tongue into a broken song with bruised notes. I do not want to be a broken piece of another love. I want to scrutinize the moon with you, As it rolls itself from the dusk- to another twilight. I wished to count the colours of the rainbow; whispering "I Love You".