New York

Central Park

The morning air was cool,
my breath tinted the air as I exhaled.
A hazy fog of serenity.
I spent the dawn looking back to a past
you so carefully etched with love.
Recalling our moments of stillness,
much like this moment itself.

I couldn’t help but think back to
those chilly mornings in New York.
I may have remained under your
arm for warmth, but really,
it was my heart that remained snug
as it continued to collide with yours.

The currents of two human bodies,
flesh and blood,
but so full and bursting with love.

And I remember how truly wonderful
it was to be with someone,
and just be.
Under the cover of clouds
and tangled branches,
It seemed as if our presence in that
vast space was intentional.

Even through the melted snow
that landed upon your eyelids,
and slid down my lashes
onto my rose-colored cheeks –
Our mouths and eyes turned up
towards the sky,
What I remember most was the
smell of vanilla and hazelnut,
and the way it felt to taste it
off of your lips.

I could feel the boldness of the wintry cement
echo through the soles of my feet.
Yet the cold air gave the rest of the world
a quieted hush.
The December sun quenched our
thirst for beauty.

Your hands, an ebony white,
clasped mine as if your fingers
couldn’t help but succumb to curiosity
in knowing the scrolls of my palm.

In that moment, our lives read like a poem.
Fleeting, but in a most
extraordinary way.
Our souls remained filled,
with angst and yearning to see the suns
of far more days to come.

But this morning,
I find myself without you.
A tear stains and stills
against my rose-colored cheeks.
For now I find my prose
has made a home in days past.

– Samantha Prasad

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