Paris can wait
a love poem letter
You will read it upon your return.
I feel languid and I want to do nothing.
Burden on my stomach.
Sense of emptiness.
A piece of heart have been ripped from me.
Don’t tell me I am extreme.
I’m really struggling to think I will get out of here,
come back home,
tidy my closet.
Maybe this will be the better remedy
for thinking not,
for feeling not.
And yet I want to drink and taste this mood.
All the way.
I am not scared to feel what I feel.
I’d like just to describe it to you better.
I am waiting for 16.40 turns into 18.00.
To go away from here because
I don’t want to stay here.
My mind is pawing.
My body is tingling.
As yesterday, on the summer lounger,
between the sloped roof and the air conditioner.
Ajar door.
Tense ears to auscultate all the cracklings.
Of our smell,
of your eager and wanting breath.
Of my heavenly and boundless pleasure.
Of my being melted to you.
Opening my eyes
stumbling in yours,
expanded and of a liquefied green,
looking at me.
A torched wood.
Feeling you are moving, again and again.
My hands on my lips,
not to scream,
not to make a noise.
Enjoying stolen and hidden moments,
they are all of us
…enchanting and magnificent..
as always with you.
I loved they way you took me.
Gentle and beastly.
Tender and passionate,
as you are.
I am collecting a countless series of whispers,
while I am making up a will of doing I cannot create,
nor I can feel guilty, today.
Not really.
I’m listening distracted to voices coming from outside.
But I am floating in a world of my own,
pristine and full of you.
I think you will read this before.
I’ll do it for you.
Maybe tonight, before you dive in sleep.
Maybe tonight, before you disappear in a merry club,
by the seaside.
I am happy you are still dense
with days to spend far away
from a reality you learnt to bare.
I am happy of these butterflies flickering in my stomach.
It is the call of you.
20 minutes to go.
I’ll take the underground to the railway station.
I’ll lose myself into a bookshop and a perfumery.
I want to buy a book.
I want you to impress another scent of me.
I am trying to do something.
I’m just sliding into the time I’ll be outside.
Then when I feel the adrenaline flowing stronger,
I’ll do something.
Paris can wait.
