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Storm in a port city.

Storm عاصفة...

Storm عاصفة… I remember how you feel, With your hands, Around my waist like that, Your thighs, Around my hips like that, Asking me, “Is this what in love is like?” Your voice, from far away, If only once, To hear again. “Hi, habibti.” “My Prince.” “I’ve been waiting to hear only those two words, my love.” “I’m here for you, Prince. To make every part of you feel whole.”

Street across.

On a table in between you and against a wall, somewhat outside, but not. You carry with you all intent of pulling me a part. Us alone, but possibly not. We’re shadowed by quiet, transparent walls within an empty hostel far. Not quite making it to the room, a few steps away, we stop under canopying arches and the tunnels cocooning us in. This moment has been thought through while on the plane, you admit, once your flight lands later on.

Su Casa.

“As long as I can see you, Know you for a while,” he pleas. You worry… Don’t worry, you’re enough. Just to know all of you, A young, sweet Prince, From the other part, Of an opposite globe. “Meet me at six, by the water.” Agreed. You distract me, Reminding me of someone. He struggled, too, With where, To be held by. The voices in his head. Another story. To walk, to talk,

Summer's symmetry.

Summer’s symmetry, Water sounds in sync to night, Illuminated. Between Jerusalem and Mexico series, a taboo love. … Visit Archive and About for more content and author details. Visit me at jasminebyemoon on Vero.

Sunlight and branches.

Sunshine.

Husband, I love you, like, sunshine and the warmth it gives. I almost feel it pierce through me softly, from inside to the outer part of me, warming the fair hairs on my forearm and wrist. It makes me close my eyes, feel my lashes. And I think about how happy it makes me, to be here in this only moment, feeling it caress, brush across my first three layers of skin.

Swarovski and MoMA.

Tangerine.

Tangerine tides, I lie down, Surrounded in the quiet, Of a wave, And its crash. You, in the room, A stroll back, Sleeping, Beautifully, With the side of your face, Showing a smile, While you dream. Rest, my Prince. From last night, Before orange rose, You decide, To get me drunk, On strawberry wine. Licking whip cream off, Key lime pie. With me held down, By the weight of yourself,

Tell ‘em Gerónimo sent you.

Hey, psst… You Meira? You the one heading north. Me and my boys need you to do some work of an inconspicuous nature for us down here… We need you to frame, I mean courier some packages, sensitive photographs let’s say, back and forth. Understand? Me: I don’t really… I ain’t asking… Look for Bugsy, he’ll take care of everything, and your accommodations. Me: I already have a… Tell ‘em Gerónimo sent you.

Time stops.

In moments, I love you, Purely love. In a moment, When heart and skin, Touch, Time stops. Only in that space, When happiness and, Existence meet. For you, Me, Brief. Love, Only love. Between Jerusalem and Mexico series, a taboo love.

Turquoise forest.

I wait for you, sunrise to sunset, Thinking about you, On the Gaza Strip. If you’re safe, If you still feel loved, Or, has that all escaped, From you by now. Will you still be able to love, When you come home next, When we meet next, At a secluded, scheduled spot. Deep inside, you are, With me, In a turquoise forest, We saved as a place, You can call out “mami”.

Turquoise lips.

Turquoise with lips, crash. Your touch, and the creation of you are more powerful than my life, with more force than my own. You rise, You fall, You rise, Kissing air, and, My skin. I, Worship, You. A gift from Syrian Gods, as free as Atargatis tied to the Northern Assyrian seas. A mistress I am to you. You sirening for me to bend to only you, under blue, in slow motion.