aristera says

Thursday, October 27, 2005

 

some things have no titles

The sublime beauty of
a frangipanni flower.
The crisp linen sheets.
The taste of dark chocolate.
The touch of a buttery finger,
running along a bare back.
The bite of joy.
The colour burnt orange.
The spine of a well worn book.
The citrus of a lemon tree.
I smell crushed coffee.
Come now, its dusk.

Comments:
Oh yes, crushed coffee. I can smell it just by reading about it.
 
mmm...as sensual as a vivid dream on a summery night...could feel everything described through your words alone...
 
I believe they call it sublime, n'est ce pas?

Addition from inconsequential lil moi - the feeling of running a hand through freshly washed hair. Not that you'd agree with that :-P
 
ah the good life... maaan what can i sayyyy...

oh btw, you got a tattoo? from where? how much? whats it look like? can i see?

-Phal
 
august- hmmm.

anil- exactly!

geetanjali- sublime it is.

anonymous phal- the good life! tatto from funky monkey. 2000 indian rupees. it looks like what i wanted it to look like. no, you cant see it.
 
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