I am an ostrich nesting in mother's lap
head buried in shell-soft comfort,
bones tender as yolk,
hiding from the world that pecks too hard.

A kiss between the brows
is not a flame nor a claim
nor a contest.

Its incense rising from
a temple left behind.
It's a wreath laid across
to honor the goodbyes.
It's the key which unlocks respect.

It builds bridges between souls,
like light crossing water without a ripple.
It forgives without words,
like snow melting over old wounds.
It anchors memory
like moss growing on the stone of time.

The armor never reached my soul.
So, I named my sword after her.
I poured my heart on wind-swept hilltops.
Spoke to the moon, mistaking it for her gaze.
And rode through war with love as my shield.

Ballons were once floating promises.
I chased them, believing they
would never pop.
Now they rise and I don't follow.
Childhood drifted upward and I
stayed watching
my joy shrink to sky.

Embers of your lies
still hiss beneath my ribs.
Smoking through the ruins of trust.
No firefighter can convince them to die.

Promises are dinosaur's eggs,
destined to hatch something
you can’t control.

Hatched eggs grow legs and show up
at your doorstep ,
asking why you left them

Roses rise for the memory
of your hand.
For the warmth you taught
them to feel.
For the sighs you left in the
folds of dusk.
For the dreamy gaze which
softened its thorns.

They bloom wildly to make
our meetings eternal.
To turn each stolen glance
into spring.
To listen to your "yes".
Not once but always.