where calamities hid her face nausea nested inside my stomach gave up worrying I learned the anatomy of a religion through your iris when I gazed upon the painful pair of yours with us longingly exchanging a sacred flame I saw God’s entourage of disciples and their loyalties reflected in your eyes and there too were shrine, dedicated for the ache in me to hurl upon the knitted solace you held I adore you, I do, allow me to plant a kiss on your eyelids let me drown in the lake of verses and invent metaphors for every time our eyes met and I’d thank every Gods for the tender dews when you cry, for me to muse upon I adore you, I do
Get laila sania’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Press enter or click to view image in full size
art: Saint Lucy's eyes, 1635, Francisco de Zurbarán
