L’alchemia della trascendenza

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I eternalised your passionate gestures, your spine in a crooked room.

Immortalised the texture of your voice, eye contact never-ending.

Internalised your body and language, the scent of your hair on the pillow.

 

I listen to the winds in spring, your fingers trotting down my neck,

Your open mouth, the sweetness within it, across the tongue, the

Heartbeat, I know stories after stories looking at you, up close, growth, blossoms.

 

The words are evasive, I shed the skin of a martyr, the arrows

Rotting on the floor. I press my hands on my ears, I can’t think in

This cacophony, I don’t know the sound of my own voice, discomfort, look at me.

 

You render knuckles tender, multi-coloured marbles foxtrotting across

My cheekbones. My forehead grazing on your collarbone, printed prayers.

Nothing else makes the world stand still.

framed photo lot
Photo by tom balabaud on Pexels.com

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