about her
and her supernatural powers
I sensed her before I met her
after hearing her name
Saffron, with a shawl of sensuality
following her like dust of sand
---
like the perfume she wore, mixed up a bit
with her sweat, I liked it so much that I would trade
all the guys I’ve loved and their stagnant concrete faces
for a tiny taste of this woman, a stranger, and yet
---
feeling familiar as the first spring rain
watered with a bit of storm interspersed
with the sun like a golden thread
it does us so much good by refreshing the senses
---
she was dressed casually, black slacks, boots, and a bouclé cape
fed my hungry eyes sufficiently
and new fringe flowing down the sides
oh my god! she was so lovely to look at
---
with me soaked in green
we’ve adapted a bit to the environment
to be two soulmates stroking each other’s back
the strokes of her comb like the gentle rustle of a field of grain
---
I will never forget the smoothness of her hands
she didn’t ask for much, just the basics
with a smile worth a million
she knew the value of silence
---
she read me as I read her
and I dare say
we came up with the same concept
that we really liked each other
---
she never pulled my hair like the other, instead her gentle movements
made me forget about the wicked world
lurking for me in every dark corner of this city
her simplicity and kindness could even disenchant any evil spells
---
who knows what good can happen to me now after meeting her
as we know, sometimes one happy soul can dispel
all doubts that we have about ourselves
after all these disappointments and doomed deep despair
---
she cut my hair while I was drinking jasmine tea
on that windy day I’ll never forget
as it felt as if I were
standing at the entrance to another reality
---
where she was the Fairy Godmother
and I was allowed
drink from her mouth
the sweetest nectar I’ve always been afraid to find
---
addicted to the monstrosity, I forgot the beauty
that sometimes lay in the background of everyday reality
not asking for much, just smiling friendly
and greeting us every time evenhandedly
---
Thank you for reading!
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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The Harvest
Koyi wobbled to her shabby wood and straw kaz, holding her machete and an old burlap bag with some yams. Someone had laid another basket in front of the patched up door—rose apples today. They were a bright reddish pink, looking waxy and crisp, just the way she liked them. The culprit knew her very well. Those would be crunchy, juicy and sweet—she could tell—but she gathered all the will she could muster and pushed the basket aside to enter her home. She had already said no repeatedly and would not be taking bribes.
By Lily Séjora day ago in Fiction
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