Churri

you look at me
and i look at the lines
next to your eyes
as the sun
goes down
behind tall buildings
and sleepy homes
tonight

deep purple oranges
blue and black rays
mixed
with hungry
street lights

the church bell tolls
a cigarette burns
next to
a half emptied
bottle of wine

you hover over me
with that look
on your face

and in that moment
i realise

there is
nowhere
left
to hide

Ametisto

the stone
in his hand
is pure
purple
magic

he tells me stories
of its birthplace
spanish flowers
in the mountains
women dancing
in folk dress

and i can feel
something
growing
as the purple
rests on
my chest
for the first time

because a necklace
is never just a necklace
but a whisper
of a promise
planted softly
on bare skin


This poem was written about a piece of jewelery created by Joyeria Ramos.