That late afternoon silent moon gently crawled
Across the vast blueish vault
Without the fainted stars, without smoothing clouds.
You bit my chest; I licked your wound.
We were sleepless, attempting to scoop
A piece of the world, a world full of poison.
Yet we insisted, drunkenly devoured.
Sugar melted caramel burning,
Ginger tea brewing with your nervousness;
We teased and ranted, talked about butter & bread.
Your words tittering, my mind danced.
Caress as much as it could be.
That late summer night walked
Empty Bernard to the Jewish town
We thought we knew each other
But maybe we were both clueless,
Perhaps I was the unicorn
and you are somehow simply lorn.
Now that it’s all bygone I couldn’t
Burn all down
I keep dancing in this world alone,
Because we were all alone.
All the future and dream
All that delicacy on which we lean,
I am dancing in this world alone,
Because we are all alone.
We are all alone.
It’s not going to be everlasting, maybe,
But I set on to let it happen
Till one day my smile were gone though I still feel it wortheverything.
Get me still,
Get me distilled, millions of seconds passed but
That space time frozen like arctic glass.
I never imagined it getting rough,
We might make love
Which was what you think of
But now it’s all bygone,
I keep dancing in this world alone;
We are all alone.
You will lose your one true love,
And it would be so painful that you truly understand how death is so peaceful.
You would know that void is nothing more than
A wishful state
As hollow swallows you
While agony permeate the once empty space.
“To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.”
– from “In Blackwater Woods” by Mary Oliver, 1983
How unfortunate –
a detached fetus,
yet an unborn,
fragmented with still lukewarm
A lump like a lemon,
That greyish red tissue.
A cake marinated with cold jelly,
Your warm affection
No more into the heart.
I hold (on to) it,
Clutch our unborn
of rosy future.
A grief, that is.
Alone in the room
A dead silence
Sing with the drifted weep.
Where is the mother?
Love, “I am ill.”
I’ve been prescribed a pill to bury
do(es)n’t leave me.
The stain on your
Misty and mistaken and when
Agitate your heart
Change your dark
Room of wound
How you depart –
Mother without birth.
*Recomposed from Cut by Sylvia Plath
‘’And in the night’’
With a drunken man lying down stairs
Conversation flied through the twigs as if there were only us
And she hooked me onto this thing called romance
In front of her friends’ house, used to.
I was dreaming,
It was sweet.
The voice so bright the moon lights between the lips
I felt the warmth of blood through my vein
Drifting off to love.
I promised myself that I would never lose her
My timid desire for a delicate she,
I’m scarred with fragile affection,
I thought of that sometimes.
Romance is now dead and done.
And it cut into my rib cage deep and sound
The breath of baby dead silent
And it cut into me between flesh and soul.
‘’I could begin to open up and risk desire
For I move slower and
Quieter than most’’
I’ve gone too deep too soon I still forget too slow
I wish it wasn’t that way but at least it’s you.
Touch me here
Dance to me
‘’I don’t care
If’’ it repeated
I want to be where you are
For all that I desired humble as it can be but last a bit further
Than that of a cut flower
So when I look at the stuff there still you are not gone
Flesh and soul
Deep and sound
*Recomposed from Ex:Re – Romance by Elena Tonra
Love will fix it,
However I can’t fix love.
It has been four hours,
If the night falls it’s because it has no option but be
like there is nothing so certain at the end
certainty that we celebrate.
In the afternoon the solitude hurts me,
You are incapable
of hurting me anymore,
as you are gone,
to somewhere only you know.
Maybe your yurt,
Don’t tell me,
I can’t bear it.
I couldn’t see that coming,
but live it.
The world that I didn’t expect,
an empty one that I never thought of.
It has been eight months
passed without me noticing;
I was in the midst of torment,
and I’m still be.
Clouds depart, emptying.
Left on me deserted sky, vast vacancy,
Much sorrow under the brilliant sunlight,
As if it cares nothing.
Leaves whispering gossip,
Millions accounts of the life and death
Of things that cross our mind missing.
Much was lost, things I forget,
But not that haunting thought.
Reminding me that I,
Under the Sunday afternoon, still a broken heart.
Your shade leaves that agitates my heart,
As though moonlight vanishes in that thin morning mist,
Into silence, you depart driftingly.
I sit up into a pitch of dark torment,
Forgot the length of time, weakened corps aches as if the deaf hears the cry,
A self floating.
Vast, void, antithesis of eternity,
Fear now sleeps in me, surrendered to night terror with my incapacity.
What an atrocity.
Yet you assert this is reality, as I
Inhale the emptiness that permeate the uninhabitation.
You left; “morning has been blackening.”
Robin egg blue
Wintery lentil soup
Your voice in our tiny kitchen
Ash tree seeds
The irresistible moisture of your wee lips
I miss you,
And all those miscellaneous reminiscences,
My memory a daze, bygone is a future once might be reality.
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.