The city was turning
Into a mirror.
You were trying to move as little as possible
Fearing variations more than anything.
The essential — now —
Consisted in not disturbing.
The cold was eating your legs, your cheeks
You were calm and wanted to go away
What was left to hold you back?
Your heart was burning and nightmares were
Surrounding your hair.
You were looking down, looking
For your own ankles
You were paying attention to the echoes,
Searching for
Someone who would grab your arm
You only wanted to hear a no
— and it was not coming.
You were hoping for some
It’s not true
— and it was not coming.
The dart had been shot
Punctual and similar to bees
Poison
It was getting you sick
You were struggling to survive
While hoping, however, to die of it.
It would have never killed you.
The smell of flowers was vanishing,
The city had turned into a mirror.
Now you could only cover your eyes.

The smell of iron at 9:19 am, disgusting
Unresolved, I
Would have given you the palm of my hands, there
Was a parade of objects in hibernation, and
The wire was made of plastic
I couldn’t
Walk, Tiburtina
Railway station blew up around me, the
Upside-down lilies hanging and dangling, you
Were sewn inside
My chest and pushed
Broken
You were breaking my ribs, shrieked, I
Was thinking about your hair
The embrace
The window
The cat
On the other windowsill
(As if he knew)
And you
Moving forward in the smell
Of the smoke, expanding
And she
Keeping on, she was filling up
All the cans
Was labelling and talking and talking
Pretending she had never
Existed, she
Had been
Transfigured
Hidden inside the white, she
I miss you, you kept saying, it
Couldn’t be done.
Don’t you understand?
It couldn’t be done.

My pen,
She sleeps tonight.
Wrapped in softest safety blanket.
Cannot risk breaking my one last baby.
My one sweet place of sanctuary.

For she is angry.
Very angry.
Incensed..No scent.
Except maybe burning flesh singed and charred.
No sense nor sensibility.

My pen she burns ire.
Irate on mission.
Declaration of dignity.
She stalks not.
Her caring nature of kindness is all there was.
Genuine never lost.

She walks away with head held high.
He cannot look her in the eye.
States readily he wants to die.
Regularly a clockwork orange.
Upon a crazy trip.

Find your own sanctuary.
Make it far away from me.
He got a cob on.
Arrogant swan hisses.
The lady her pen will not decease.
She will write on.





By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

I live in a world
            full of people with your name
but not the way you articulate the consonants
            or the way your eyes dare
listeners to
            contradict your intricate intonation.

                      correction

I live in a world
           full of people who think they can have your name
without having your soul.