I chase you memory every night, my love
this bottle helping me recalling
the way your lips curve nearby my skin,
the way your voice tickle my lobes,
the way your chest inflate under my hand.
And when the moon chases me,
– under the spotlight
I raise up my sight,
and her, from that distance
she can reflect it too
the love I would, every night
give to you.
Tag: distance
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I rushed back home on the willpower of a couple of tired legs. The steaming lights of the club were hitching my yellow eyes.
Did you know?
I rushed back home because people were distracting me, Nigel Farage does not have the colour of your eyes.
Did you know that?
I rushed back home in a cold empty night, ignoring the monsters on my bed, collapsing on the sofa, crumpling under the blanket, leaving the light on so that I can project you sitting on the armrest.
I rushed back home because you were presumptuously filling all my actions with your imaginary presence, I was moving stiff picturing you next to me, and so I precipitated in my calm orange vanilla room in order for you to have the space you need, the space you have, inside me. -
I opened my wounds to you, my love,
when you sat in the darkness
on the brim
of what we were allowed to,
when you started sliding
my willpower
and my needs
like an automatic door,
when I thought,
on that dwindling motion,
that I could have bath
my lips of that salty water
forever,
when you tumulted the valley
of my belly
with your finger,
when you stole the pulse of my breath climbing up my stomach,
and you gave it back
to me
when encircling the fences
of my breast.I opened my wounds to you, my love
when your eyes,
your silence,
your tremor,
your hands,
they showed me
the path to your wounds.But you know I refused, I left that book
closed,
and so did you with mine
because we choose not to declare
that poems of the past
with sorrow
but to sing
new hymns
to this limited,
overwhelming
present. -
I moved my limbs,
my thoughts,
my routine.I’ve seen you laughing while crying,
exhaling while falling silent,
jumping while standing still.And when my breath was running out
I put myself on the cross,
preaching my last keys.And I had the universe when
its shape came into life
on my lips.
Claudia Delicato 