Poetry by | October 25, 2015

The full moon was above us.
You pointed out my flat, round nose
and I became love’s worst enemy.

At least we both have huge nostrils;
there is no need to grab a leaf
from the nearest acacia branch
for its scent
to linger
(unless it surrenders to gravity
and freefall like your eyelashes).

Aren’t you nosy
about me?

Often, I give you glances
while you give reasons
for people to recognize a joke
or maybe a piece of fiction
by loving me

I looked down
welcomed by my belly
before the Amphitheatre grass.

Everything inside me has been heavy.

There is fear
in feeling how fine
it is
to leave my lips
and how
it is not
to leave all of me.

you did the unbuttoning for me
when I needed it.

You asked me why
I lit up
only the spaces between my craters
and told me
the sun is just taking a rest
and not troubled at night.

Answers are distant.

Andrea D. Lim is a mass communication senior at Silliman University. She is the current editor-in-chief of the Weekly Sillimanian. She believes that coffee made her fatter.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.