Wanderlust by Dalia & Reem Sabra

Posted on March 10, 2013 by

2


I want to backpack and travel up the pavement of your vertebrae.

I yearn to hike through the hills and valleys upon your spine,

planting kisses along the way;

(marking the steps I take up a road I am destined to stray)

I would then reach the peak,

(the mountains cleanly molded by your shoulder blades),

only to have them slice my bungee cord, plunging me down to the atmosphere below, (just above your crust), where your scent is sprinkled; the scent I’m captivated by.

I want to have adventures and follow the trails of goosebumps along your arms (reading the braille only I can understand).

I itch to roam through the chaotic windstorms and blizzards formed by the frigidness of your breath,

(as it delivers words of fury),

but only to be warmed by your toasty apologies,

(when you return in remorse).

I want to risk walking along the thin ice glaciers that coat your words (and hold on for dear life when the ice melts into honey).

I want to be homeless, (spending only one night under the roof of your skin and between your cervix and folds).

I want to wander and get lost, (only to be guided home by the maps drawn into the palms of your fragile hands).

I want to sky-rocket into the skies meaning to kidnap the very moon for you, (as a measure of my love),but even it is ashamed to appear before you, now that it has spotted your beauty.

Your beauty stuns me (and makes all that is dull, radiant)

I crave to experience the worst things this cursed world could present me,(and view them as grace)

I want to breathe you in, (though your poisoning air is polluted of cigarettes), because I find pleasure even in the damage you cause me.

I was meant to sail the raging oceans found in those breathtaking eyes of yours (and prevent the cascades that fall out of them due to the pain my absence causes you).

I ache to march upstream (through the rivers pumping out of your heart),

leading my way to the melancholy chambers,

where your darkest secrets stay hidden; (the chambers in which I belong).

I long to listen to the white noise filling the air, as I imagine us sitting around a campfire; (the fire that reminds me of my blazing love for you). A bittersweet fire that burns me at times and warms my body at others.

I want to walk through the busy streets (swamped with indecisive people), overflown with echoing voices, like the ones that rush through my head when I think of you.

But above all, I want you.

This is a confession I pencil down as words I could never bring myself to say.I am a hopeless romantic, surrendering before you, drowning in chronic hurricanes of wanderlust; (a strong desire or impulse to travel the world).

But the world, in my eyes, lies within you.

 

(Parts in bold are by Dalia Al-Shurman 

Parts in italics are by Reem Sabra.)

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Posted in: Wanderlust