one year has gone
when i asked you
about your feelings
you did not hear the voices
that i was hiding myself from_
voices that revive in memories
of moments we never came to share;
i live among the ghosts of witdrawn wishes
of alighted joy burnt in the tossing of a smile.
one year now has gone
since you pierced the boredom
that was nourishing my imagination
and i dream now of the amniotic dullness
that cuddled me before you left me in the air.
remember those stories
you told me about your journeys?
i am still reaching to join you there
in the syllables of any departing friend
to arrive where all directions would end in us.
at the yoga class i had the other day,
there were curled socks on the floor
as you used to do at the corned of my bed;
i wonder in how many beds you have left
your curled socks to be far from my eyes_
and yet i went home chased by the scents
of all those anonymous beds you touched
remembering the beauty in that gesture
that i passed over with a sardonic pose
unaware that i would not have had time
to be able to say to you why i loved it.
now i try to approach you
but you have ghosts you cannot share
and i saddly recognize your wise decision
but it does't save me from seeing they are there
to be reflected in the fears of having projected them
becouse your silent ghosts are my loud nightmares
for thoughts i am not here to hear anymore
for a kindness i won't be there to see
if you are still capable to make part of you.
it is all silly now_
how i still wait for you
after the too many words
after the too long silences;
the phone that does not ring
reminds me too strongly
that you do not have to talk
and i am left to meet the sound
that has came to deafen all we had:
how you became the world
in which i could breath to be you
where now i am rising this song alone
to be meek and humble when i come to hear that
you do not have desire to speak the words i dreamt.
