I am waiting for your silhouette to appear,
The organs cramped, tightened feelings,
I long for your reflection, the glance that
Works without verbalisation. I wish I knew
Who you were. Spread out on blankets,
You’d feel so deserted. The rings sinking into the
Wooden furniture and I’d look for your name.
I’ve held your objects tightly in my hands
And shivered. I thought you’d haunt me forever
During the night, because I wouldn’t sleep, I would
Talk to you, awaiting your presence, feel your
Non-existent kisses on my cheek, my head vanishing
Beneath the pillow.
The uselessness of your glasses still pains me.
The obsolete object simply lying there, waiting, too.
For you to hold them, clean them, put them on your nose.
And there they are, your eyes, the goodness within them,
The tragedy, the resignation, I still love you, remember you
In dire fragments, in sensory odes, lamentations, memories.
I’d crucify my body onto your clothes and love what you loved
Trying to follow you into thin air, translucency, memorabilia,
I hold you so close, I feel that you found a good spot.
Croque-Melpomene 