Love Match


Sitting across the table from you
In the balmy kind of light
That seems reserved only for ordinary Sundays.
The cafe’s chatter fell like warm rain
As our fingertips traced the woody menu
Hovered over the Strawberry Tartlet.  
We exchanged dazzled smiles
Convinced that this is another sign
Of our intertwined destiny
Woven together over stories and coffee.
And just like that, we fell in love all over again.

©Lipstickandmiracles 2017

Inspired by The Daily Post Photo Challenge A Good Match


We never touch

So close,
I can see your soul
ebbing and flowing
through the wires and light.

So connected,
we’re two stars
signing tales
4 billion years apart.

So careful,
the way trust
is threaded by words
for all to judge.

So crazy,
how we never touch
anymore, the earth,
warm hands, passing lives.


©Lipstickandmiracles 2016  

At some point, we’ll have to touch in order to trust.

Daily prompt – trust.

Again, here and now


Promised myself I would never peep under the ochre sheets
of those loud southern sunsets, never pick at that old dream
still smelling like stale wisterias under a blue husk.

Look where my heart has gone again,
and again and again and again
to those salty words you said in a sleepy cedar forest,
tied me forever to the seawinds, that here and now,
to you.

I’m afraid I may actually be empty
like an ashy tree hollowed out by snow
but I’ll find folds to bury this moment so I may never find it again.

©Lipstickandmiracles 2016 

In response to Discover Challenge Here and Now

Strawberries in my bones

Wild strawberries only four euro a barquette

My summers are faded and cracked
frivolous snatches from old films.

Strawberries ripening in the sun
gorging ourselves on heart-shaped flesh
till sweet perfume stained our lips.

Hot, tight cabins painted sea and clouds,
chasing sand between our toes
barely breathing, barely there.

I look over my shoulder to see you gone
no more summer in my bones.

The Isle de France with all the gulls around it

©Lipstickandmiracles 2016

In response to today’s Daily Prompt: Summer and written while listening to These Foolish Things


We’ll Always Have Paris


“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Of the many quotes inspired by Paris, this is the one I love most now. I was lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a youngish woman, and wherever I am now, and for the rest of my life, it stays with me. This is the version of the Paris I love, neither from the fleeting perspective of a tourist nor the instinctive recognition of a true Parisian. But a measured perspective of one who had enough time to explore and enjoy the ordinary beauty of this incredibly poetic city, but not so much time that the unevenly cobbled streets, that became treacherously slippery in winter and that made wearing heels an art, got taken for granted.

Chance encounter

There’s something exciting, romantic, intense even about chance encounters that take place late at night or in the wee hours of the morning.
The darkness seems to cover every trite corner with possibility, to transform normally uninteresting characters, including ourselves, into shiny heroes and fairies.
An intimacy that may have taken months to unwrap often reveals itself in a few hours in conversations that probably wouldn’t have taken place in the constraints of day.
Every haphazard brushing up against another soul that happened late at night left a kind of imprint. This is the first of those encounters.

Garden1The Garden

The country’s first 24-hour music festival in 1990,
a gathering of indie and rock bands, cool kids and artists, at the Garden
an arts space watched over by a sprawling Banyan tree
adorned with fairy lights in the middle of a large concrete compound
surrounded by short graffiti-covered walls.

My big sister (the cool kid) let me tag along that night,
a shy, skinny, long-haired, sheltered preadolescent
in jeans and a yellow cotton shirt.

Before he appeared, the night was all very loud music
boom-booming in my insides, even louder laughter, heat and smoke,
hot sweaty bodies pressed together in camaraderie.

At close to midnight, he arrived – someone’s younger brother.
There was a massive two-year gap between us, me a little girl
to his full-blown teenage worldliness. I was afraid
of his good looks and self-assurance, of my own scarcity.

The first thing he said to me was “Where did you get your bracelet?”
and before long we were chatting about favourite songs, school
and faraway countries we couldn’t event point out on a map.

He built a bridge with gentle gestures and silly jokes to reach me,
coaxed me out of my rabbit hole of insecurity
to stand bravely in the spotlight of his attention.

Time stopped, the music stopped, me being me stopped.

I remember details like smells, textures, sounds.
I remember him carrying me above the grown-up crowd so I could watch the band, covering my head with his large palms when it started to drizzle suddenly as it often does in the tropics. I remember exchanging bracelets, holding hands when we navigated through the crowd because
“I don’t want to lose you” he said.

I remember how he drew a rocket that carried his name
toward a cratered moon that carried mine
on the graffiti littered wall.

We parted ways when it got light.
For many months after that chance encounter,
I would go to the Garden often after class
to leave messages beside our rocket moon on the wall and
sit under that protective Banyan tree,
waiting for him to show up maybe, or myself.

I never saw him again but I remember him,
the first boy who made me feel lovely.

©Lipstickandmiracles 2016

What chance encounters in the dark could look like
My shadow at a light installation by Olafur Eliasson who said “My exhibition… is about the horizon that divides, for each of us, the known from the unknown.”
Like the night before and after that haphazard brushing up against another soul?

Post inspired by: Discover Challenges – Chance Encounter