Published by: Ysabella Charis Vaila
Date published: June 7, 2022
Time published: 1:05 pm
Category: Prose
Three yellow rivers away from here, three wishes from my lemon palms caravanned to the summer padlocks I installed on the cables nearby. The rainfall beads you gave and wrapped on my wrists cried an italic mail which I failed to understand. The lilac tint that glowed differently from its mooncalf string told me that the pinky swears we both have shared would be granted, and you would be back just in time. But my hopes went straight to the alley you built in the heaven we discovered on our Thursday service when you came back earlier. I could have embraced you again like my Sunday visit to church; cozy summer. But you, being back so soon was not in my grow-up-list. Could not even be a forbidden kiss. You don't deserve a drunken forest lady who broke shelters. Neither its ripe fruits which already fell on the ground. I'm not saying that you don't deserve me—you just deserve a better troubled mind. A doubled sunbake life; ready to wander inside your mouth. Not an old memory from your soil-colored eyes. Not an autumn caterpillar who's still waiting for her time to fly.
Photo by: Loris Charmane Calimag
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