The Caresses of Sleepwalkers

Her body contained so many stories.

Some alleviating.

Others traumatising.

Every part of her has a scent.

Her entire body is a burial,

Losing herself,

A cover-up.

Artifice is her blanket.

Nothing is left as it is.

Her body is forced into

Never-ending u-turns.

And then she invites them in.

Lovers of what is fake,

Those who agonise over the fragility

Of make-belief.

Little children.

Boys and girls

Who don’t know how to play with each other.

She is naked and yet

Tries to hide from him.

He cannot understand.

It’s a no for herself, a yes for him.

And a million nuances in-between.


Woman Wearing Hat with Black Ostrich Feather” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)

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