I weave Hibiscuses in your hair and

Along with them I softly weave the strings of my I love you's.

Your eyes are closed as you soak in my touch and

Your lips are pressed thin as if imprisoning yours.

What goes on in that head of yours you only tell me through expressions and

These expressions require months to become fluent in.

You part your lips but only to tell me tales about the cosmos, galaxies, and stars, and

I watch in awe the stretch and collapse of your skin with each resonance of your voice.

A branch snaps somewhere in the distance and

Like an old polaroid photo, this image starts to deteriorate.

My pale fingers stained with wet mud and grass and

Your Hibiscus face is now nowhere in sight.

Why must I only love you in my dreams and

Never in reality.

Take me to a Hibiscus field won't you and

Let me weave Hibiscuses in your hair.

Rubina Nusrat Puspa is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Arts from BRAC University.

You can reach her at rubinanusratpuspa@gmail.com.