Melting broken words,
unknotting longing arms –
band now my waist,
with your care.
I am riding
the glass line
of the Equator:
Pour me wine,
let me clean
the corner of your chest,
you did not bring
any armor today.
Turn my face,
approach my lobe,
the thoughts of you
is trying to conceal.
My forehead staining the window:
rolling mountain ranges;
still I am overjoyed:
My mind is on you
and on the prelude
that this is
You are the season that keeps me awake
The endemic smile sewn on this sun
this nippy sun
Finding myself awake from a painful sleep
how many do we still consume together?
You are the restless conversation
the finger sliding on the brim
when my sight is halted
the eyes that are not observing
digging in a shallow
You are the trip, the plane, the train
The car with no fuel
The road with no sign
You are the rainy day when my map is not plasticized
The extra charge on my dinner bill
You are the short blanket, the cat that doesn’t purr, the host with no wine
You keep me sitting at the edge of this chair
While holding my hand firmly
Like you would do with a kite
You are afraid to see fly away.
Rattled, delightfully unstable over some water ground, cold in the cheeks and soggy in the pants.
I ride over the cabblestones, over the mortal tram lines, over the hills which used to scare me and the shops who don’t call at me.
There is you, there is only you everywhere…
I am scared to fall.
‘Shake it off’, a voice urges inside me.
‘What if you don’t?
What if you don’t fall?
Are you more scared of that?’
of my perceptions and my past.
On the forehead, the blessed kiss
of your whisper, it is the ocean
when you cradle me in the bed.