When I see you
I suddenly forget everything
The things that surround me
The things that is important to me

I feel your eyes staring into my soul
Like you’re about to eat me
But you don’t

I don’t know why I feel this way
Or how this is happening
It doesn’t feel real

You walk closer to me
And I start to tremble

And when you touch me
I start to crumble
Into million pieces that you pick up

I forgot how to breathe.

There’s something about you
That makes me want to run away
Yet I stay to stare at your beauty

This is a dream. My conscience whispers.
No, it isn’t. I say to myself.
Wake up. It’s. Not. Real.
It’s real. I know it’s real. I feel it.

Then I wake up.

I know you’re real
I know that I’ll meet you someday
I know that I’ll walk down the aisle
With my father holding my hand
And you, smiling in front of me

It’s years away but I feel like you’re near me
I feel your aura around me
I wish you would come out
And tell me that you love me
Because I will love you until death do us apart.

I am dying with a smile on my face.
I swear, one more time that lamp post or that cool breeze whispers your name
I will burry it down below where the roots are.
Because my skin, my eyes, everything that has remained yells for you.

“I have loved you so much that I believe I understand you a little.”
Marcel Proust

we are wearing our glowing skins
full of unwoven whispers
or au contraire
we’ll have worn them
-who knows
in poetry, not in theory,
anything is possible-

one of us could say
“take this animal
out of my eyes, teeth, bones
for wild flowers
to grow in my sockets”
and I’ll say:
“for my eyelids to rest
in the shadow of your breath
and my vertigo, indigo
in the nest of your palm"

-words are just riverbeds-

see you - the sea in me
at the echo point
of blood

I’ll wear rivers
lipstick
bluebirds

in this poem of touching
every cell is spinning
its nucleus of *numinosum
while the day breaks open
into the heart of trees

-words are stones of silence,
unintelligible altars-

I was in love
with a vertigo man
last time I checked

blood has its madness