A Joyful Death Between Her Arms

by Âlâ Tevfik

A mid-fall morning,

Nude hearts,

Naked souls.

You weave your mind through her thoughts,

Delicately.

That mid-fall morning,

Sun-rays caressed,

Poetry spelled,

Ink read.

You bloom cherries on her cheekbones,

Yearning for a joyful death between her arms.

– Lala Tevfik