* PTSD *

Bernard, Rosemont, Jeanne-Mance Park,
Honourable, semantic, overpass,
Doctorate, Galway, Esplanade,
The miscellaneous reminders,
Loss now the only signified,
Carefully they cut through my pulmonary valve,

Now that you are omnipresent.
The entire logos my haunting ground.

* Murderous *

Is heart-brokening being abandoned.
Whitened skin, dreading blood.
Even more terrifying is
Accepting the reality.
Tearing down the love mostly treasured,
Burying that fiery part of yourself
Alive.
Murderous.

* Read Tulips *

“To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free –“
You said.

Whispering into my wicked bones, like fairy slips through lichen and moss.
Lie on the floor awaiting to be taken,
I smiled as if this corps would be still for ever.

How free it is, I know exactly.
Yet I miss the excitement of the spring earth,
That chill of a summer refrigerator,

Calling me is the voice of a country singer.
Now that I think,
Even the odor from the back alley of Parc Avenue is somehow familiar. Not only that,

I wonder what it feels like when my son pees on my arm,
How painful it would be, to see my daughter falling on the ground,
How wonderful it is, to see an enfant growing into an adult.

And I want especially,
To hear you read Tulips to me,
So much,

So much joy awaiting,
So many miracles pounding.
That I have to wake up, into this dreamy reality.

* Last Fall *

I thought it would be the last fall,
Like what they said, the war that ends all the wars,
Or, in Francis’ terms, the end of the history,
I really thought so,

Until you broke it down.

Now I’m scared,
What if it is the last fall?

* You *

During those fleeting days you were the majourity of my life,
I breathed you, I touched you,
I sensed you, I sniffed you, I thought about you,
I imagined you, I lived in you,
I desire you, I was with you.
Now you are my entire past.
Entirely, you defines me.

* One Day *

One Day,
Gabriel García Márquez might teeter on the tip of your tongue,
Your legs might become too stiff that walking together in a quite forest would be luxury,
Your wrinkles would proliferate as the memories carve into your beautiful body,
Your illed body would be too clumsy that I have to grab and lay it down on bed every night when I’m at home,
Life will demand us to pay the due and the obstacles would sabotage our happiness.
Or that might be me,
But still,
I will look at you and all the memories will come up and I will smile deeply so intensively recalling all the moments the reasons we fall in love the aroma of your hair the texture of your skin your body hair your existence and I would feel that love is always there and I just can’t stop loving you and I’m still deeply in love with you and all the dreams the fantasies the desire and the hope

If you stay

* Drown *

I heard,
That people drown their sorrows.
How crazy is that?
I’ve already drown in my own sorrow.