I want you to hear me. But most importantly I want to be heard:

Swift love

Shorty got a scrapbook 

In his bedroom 

With pictures of me in it

And what we use to be in it 

 

Letters once sealed 

By a lipstick kiss are smudged 

Into the depth of eternity 

Hushed conversations shared between us 

 

In a lush forest 

With fingers intertwined

And feet parallel to mine 

Like wild horse murals 

 

Frozen in the springtime

Swift love once ran our hidden utopia 

We were outliers 

Living on the fringe 

Of our own  desires 

 

But no more… 

The weathered owl hoots 

On the arch above our door 

The dream’s end wraps around us 

 

Like aged creeping plants 

Searching for warmth 

After being tasked to live 

With no sunlight 

 

Frozen in the springtime

Swift love once ran our hidden utopia

We were outliers 

Living on the fringe 

Of our own desires

 

Thank you for reading.

Love always, Esha <3