Contradiction to P.N. (Integration)

Before everything, I do not love you
as if there was never after
as if before, not waiting,
seeing you coming, breathless
you were already far from me

Far from me in your unreliable ways
without colour or sound
as warring countries never agree
their fields divided by borders,
not a river or a volcano in sight.

Far from you is far from me
your presence is close to nothing
and the sun is the color of clay
on calm days roots divide
silence is only silence
without music or courage.
Courage is a street
smooth, without stones
nothing tender runs through it
no feet, no lips

we stay in the boundary of a past
wide open, determined
you detach a wisp of tomorrow
to dissipate only once, in peace.

My Good Hands

Pieces of you are embedded in me.
I want nothing to do with them, but plenty to do to you.
The shards grow sharper,
They dissipate into my blood to spy vulnerable trends:
a word or lack thereof strolling through my veins and arteries.
A better man might try to flush them out, to heal me. Not you.
You keep your entry/exit points open,
And what if I bleed a little.
I notice when a lightning of a laugh
comes at me to smear a temporary calm,
careful, not to erase my nicks and bruises
or to restore some points in need of luster.
There is no such kindness.
Your memory awaits my good hands.
They will not come.

Little White Pool

Civility weighs upon you.
I am to be transparent
Like the little white pool left on your skin,
gathered in a handful of tissues
'I'll get rid of it' you say
we laugh, never to put you out
You buckle your belt without my help
today I wear no buttons
an armour of warm layers
impenetrable to your touch
ready for nothing
for when you change your mind
It does not help much
Hearts have no on/off buttons
I’ll see you whenever
Your mask says
I hear the door
white tissues fall on fresh snow
and just like that
I am gone.

Rain

It is hot in my garden tonight
I wish you were here to sit in it with me.
it smells like it’s going to rain.
we could get naked and sit in the rain, if it rains
touch our wet skins, marvel at each other
we could kiss, very wet kisses.
I would open my mouth to your rain
the rain would wash it down.
so many games we never got to try
things I never wanted
I know some now, I want them,
with you they would be new as rain.

Ferocious Velvet

I loved you with the ferocity
of a velvet garment
the soft attack of your touch
became my skin
your arms around me held me
in virgin grounds
with each caress another nerve wove
the velvet’s burning colours,
tattooed on my bare body
branded, like cattle, I belonged to this love
and since you abandoned it
I roam empty fields of men
searching for my owner
howling your name quietly.

Dead Kisses

The city is littered with dead kisses
by trees, walls, park benches
coffee shops are filled with them
they are rolling in the streets
they tackle my feet as I walk by
places where we planted them
upon each other.
curiously, the kisses remain there,
as if dropped, unnoticed
slipped from our lips to the ground,
leaving traces of moments past.

A Week in January

The internet gods conspired and
I sat with no (1) in my inbox,
still had sex alone,
you a pirate and I a lady
who wondered about priorities
wishes, misses, tricks.
Then despite them
we sat as if to chat.
I wish we were in a bed, you said,
It's been a while. Years, I said.
You said you were older,
wrinkled eyes full of time and hurt.
No matter. I want what I covet.
A long time passed, passes, will pass
if the gods of sin allow us one last favour.
It won't be long enough if the gods are right to intervene.
I did not separate real lovers, already torn apart by time, space,
silence.
I aimed to resurrect what should be left
beneath mountains of memories and words.
From that tomb rises a ghost.
You feel great, says the ghost
seeping into my mouth.
It tastes like nothing much,
only a wonder I have not known before.
I sought something fueled by love.
The gods step in to save me.
Your pleasure can’t mend me where your words would do.
They have silenced you
to set me free.