I am breathing

Heavy pall of broken glass

Cristall blue eyes

Shadows of cats

Secrets songs of drunk lovers

Your steps invisible are in the snow

Your body reflection revealed in the glass

Our game

Our betrayal

Our broken hearts

We are strangers

Yet we tremble

Yet I open my sould as a pore to inhale

Light

The light from your eyes

From your breath

 

Your breath

Heavy day lost in those torrid arcades of the purple flesh

Of a sky that no longer exist

Now

Yet

I finish my glass of wine

I open my eyes

I look outside the window

I leave my lipstick on their glass

And I swallow you

I sow you in hidden Parisian streets

I feel you in my high heals

In the trumpet

In the elevator

 

Alone

With you

I am breathing.

 

 

Poetry. Skin.

SKIN

 

Yellow leaves on your skin

Pulled pores of some impalpable silence

Cracked lips

And fervid valley of thoughts and nipples

Liquid

I say, are you alone

Or time flows away standing still pretty distant from the conventional clock

But I hear on the pale layers drops slipping out

Secretion, tears, wine

Yet, it is not the first time nor is once

But nonce, a perpetual returning back

As you close your eyes facing the choice you do not want to take

As this time comes by, this autumn

On your skin

In an eruption of inconvenient improper indecent spaces