(Still) Untitled

I like it this way.

I fancy it wet and gray; fantasizing all those

passing planes in dimmed light, on the late nights,

and the elderly’s sincere novella.

I saw the blurry greens, the painted ponds

on a steamy ride, and I asked

the eternal question:

Did you ever know how deep it hurts

when you murmur those words;

while collapsing my world?

I’ve learnt not to rive, not to sway;

I know how to digest and not to

wind up in any way.

Let’s leave them all behind and climb up

to the rooftop; hands locked, eyes wide shut,

seeking then saluting the

non-existent sun.

Let’s swallow the poison and spoil ourselves

in silence, in this ‘very’ moment

cause happiness is ‘now’,

my sweetness.

S

Final Destination

Where are the love affairs and the eternal gazes

at the bus stops, way under the foggy

shelters covered with nicotine patches?

Under the morning breeze when ‘to love’ is

far from a random habit, I crave the hot sand

rescuing the sealed kisses; treasuring the lost letters.

The final destination is a flawless spot filled

with leaves of grass, with singing birds and I,

I’ll linger there in silence, holding tight to my dignity.

S