by Anahit Arustamyan
You are not in my bed lit by the moon's beams. You are in my poems erupting to stream. Our dreams kiss each other instead of our lips. Our miles hug each other in the air's mist. My dark eyes are lost in a noisy street. That's why I wait for a night to dream. I am engaged to a mountain breeze. Tomorrow my bed will miss even me. I am engaged to my own myth. Aren't you writing my soul's scripts? Life is dripping from the sky's eyelids but the sky's eyes may hide lots of things. Our dreams kiss each other seeking our lips. Our miles hug each other through millions of streets.