v for violet by sahar

she steps into my space

like she built it.

like every inch of me

was mapped out in advance

& she’s just coming home.

she gets so close

i forget where i end.

her knees touch mine like a promise,

like a dare,

& suddenly the room is too small

for anything but her gaze.

she stares at me

like she’s trying to solve a puzzle

she already knows the answer to,

but wants to watch me squirm anyway.

i ask, what?

she asks back, what?

but she keeps looking—

like she’s pressing flowers

into the pages of my chest

& waiting to see what blooms.

i think this is what prayer feels like.

not begging.

just—

being looked at,

perceived,

like you’re already sacred.

her fingers brush mine

& it feels like the first spark

ever invented—

like god got bored

and made contact instead of light.

she smiles.

i forget what language is for

except maybe

saying her name,

soft into a pillow.

violet,

your name tastes like dusk on the tongue—

starting soft, a sigh almost,

before the vowel blooms open

and closes

like a throat learning to sing.

violet,

i’ve written your name so many times

that the letters softened at the edges,

becoming a wound i keep reopening

just to feel the shape

of wanting to be spelled out again.