READ: Untitled

This poem began a long while ago

in that usual Starbucks

in my favourite little corner,

back turned away from everyone else;


no one would see the smiles


as the moon stole the sun away and

threw it to the other side of the world,

so you laid claim to my thoughts,

the little pockets of nothingness

in between

fluent, complete mathematics.


The mathematical induction:

Prove Un=(n+1) + C

If only,


kiss the tips of my fingers

the lips dance across, the teeth graze

to leave red marks that are not quite.


Torturous anticipation for the release yet to come;

“the release” –

as though, as if I know it by name-

I use the word ‘yet’, yet (there it goes again)

there is nothing if only one hand is pressed up against the glass.



Add yours →

  1. Nice poem.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s