Alejandra Berber (Septermber 19,1992 / Lynwood, California)

It’s the gentle touch that shivers my skin,
It travels and weaves through my arms
until I grab you close, letting our bodies
diffuse to one. Where our language is dead
and our vision because the painted image
of our noses embracing each other and our touch
becomes the spirant diffusion of our lips,
curling with the shudder of our lucid skin.

It’s the gentle touch, crawling up high,
bursting through our eyes, when they meet.
Creating a light through a coquettish smile
luring one another in attachment, enamour.
We disperse, only to find the smell of your
stuttered words trailing to me, reminding me,
of the immortality we conceive when your delicate
lips touch mine. You’re still here.