The next time we love,
I will love you in
bread slices and mulled wine.
Strawberry jam in my
mouth and it means
in your mouth, because darling,
in the next life our lips
never part and if they do
they part only to call
each other’s names.
The next time we love
I will love you through big
windows and white sunshine
on your back, my cheek
pressed up against it.
I will love you in our backyard
between the blossoms
with my dirt stained hands.
I will love you on lazy Fridays,
in the rice that I will put to boil
just like my mother’s.
I will love you in long hours
at dining tables and large families.
The next time we love, oh darling
I promise to love you soft and warm.
The next time we love, I will never
have to write this poem,
only live it.

In the Next Life by Thamanna Razak

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