Sheherezade's poetry and fiction page:

Tuesday In the early morn he goes to the bodega across the street, craving cheese curls. He sees her blue sunglasses behind the countertop, and makes a wish: If you were a cup, I'd hold you all the time. I could kiss your lips with every sip, but oh, if you were air, I'd keep you there and breathe... Sign in to see full entry.