A Trojan Hymn

And now you walk toward me.

Lowering your body.

I look at your head from above.

As if you were waiting for an injury.

On all fours. Do you think

That this is how I dedicated my time to you?

Did I look like this?

This posture is burned into my brain.

My hands folded behind my back.

I can’t stomach the sound of your voice.

And you move like an unborn child.

I can feel you everywhere.

You are not looking.

You need to see that my projections have changed.

Not the ones I used to idealise you.

No, the ones revealing to you who I really am

And all the boundaries that accompany me.


“Lady with Flowers” by Paul César Helleu (1859-1927)

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