In the apathetic silence between each wave every sound expands, the stars come alive and the wind echoes as soft as a poem. You, laid back in the moon light, nude but for my shadow across your shoulders. In your hand a sweating glass of rum, its swirl keeps perfect time to the far off sound of Coltrane. I need to look away from your gun powder blue eyes, the moon’s lethal shot, before my eyes betray the flight of a thousand fluttering moths in my belly. So I breath the circlets of smoke from your cigarette and the sweet scent of willing hostages naked and bare boned. Our hearts, fragile as fireflies, escape in to the madness of our minds where all we need to do is live.

rainbow beach

Liliana Gigovic

71 thoughts on “Negril

  1. You have a way of creating stunning visions like memories that just won’t let go. They go down smooth, warm, and sweet like that carefully aged rum made in a little pot still in the shed out back. Perfect for moonlight sonatas where the tides wash the sand.

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