Be gentle people, it has been two months since I attempted to write poetry. There is plenty of rust.
who am i
who are you
her reflection sighs
fogging the mirror
before I can steal a kiss
who am I
the mist dissipates
revealing a garden forgotten
a mirror image of me
two flowers of dark love
sowed in solitude
I soil my face with jasmines
her scent whispers to me
you are my soul
I am the air that you breathe
The Lonely Author 