alphabets de nostalgie

Perhaps we are not meant to understand
What is to love
Until we lose, 

The ocean drifts aimlessly
Like a gypsy who has no need
To recall where she has been,

Waves surface and recede
The night air caresses my hair
Parting them from the shoulder blade, 

There is a reminiscence of your breath
That greets my skin
A nostalgic arrival –
Warming blush,  

Between a hitched breath
The diaspora of a slant descent
Flight of sea gulls
Circling over our love scent.

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