Treasure Island

Windsor Guadalupe Jr

(April 28,1992 / Philippines)

Hair


The mere thought
Of stroking your tousled
Hair, tucking it behind
Your pristinely sculpted ear
Fires my bones
Like how the sunshine is
Jaded in the locks of your
Hair.

That ebony river
Sprawling across your back,
Landing upon your forehead -
Symmetries and aesthetics
Purity of the rivulet,
I run my hands through
And disengage them, now
Sodden with the sweet water
Of your nightly hair.

Your hair: the fragrant fume
Bellows across the entrancing room
Where you sleep while I am awake.
And in my slumber, I dream of
Your hair and how it tangles
In a choke-hold like how a vine
Solders itself to the walls.

Submitted: Thursday, March 08, 2012

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