Everything we were can be reduced to an incomplete kiss. We had the chemistry, but not the formula. We had the moment but it was taken by a blink of my eyes. We had our lips begging, but for different touches.
We had the perfect picture, but our idea of gradient was not the same, my was composed by different yellow tons and you simply can’t stand this color.
Maybe this one fact could explain all that situation. I’m too much yellow to your color palette. I’m the color that gives you vertigo while you…
You were the mix of my favorite colors.
Now all I can see is gray.
I don’t know if I can survive through this month. Everything seems just the same and I’m asking myself if this was how my dad used to felt like.
You keep laughting.
I don’t know if I can survive through this week. People are becoming invisible despite the fact that I keep hearing them say in my dreams: wake up.
However, your unstopping laugh is so much lauder.
I don’t know if I can survive through this day. I’m spending my time thinking on ways to scape from this prisons that I live within myself.
And you’re still laughing inside my head.
I used to adore your laugh, now it's a key for my madness.
Who could imagine that your pink lips would be so dark while you’re talking.
Who could imagine that the shine of your hair would blind me.
Who could imagine that the honey draining from your eyes would have such a bitter taste.
Who could imagine that your soft hand touch would scratch.
I certainly wouldn’t imagine that the person who I dared to trust the most would be the one to tear me apart.
I put this cigarette between my lips
in the foolishness of maybe
it could make me poeticize.
Ingenuous thought when I know the only
drug able to mess with all my system is you.
More effective than nicotine, fogging all my mind
More dense than an smoke that I stubborn to
take to my lungs, your smell clogs my aerial vias.
More rough than the cigarette material
rubbing my fingers, your words scratch my skin.
More agonizing than abstinence, your distance makes
me writhe inside my own body, facing an intern fight
that always end in riot because I can’t decide between
leave you on your own luck or convince you that
we can be the lucky of each other.
And here is the living proof, here is the poetry
that i’m only able to extract from the collateral
damage caused by *you.
The further away things are in space when we look at them,
The more we're looking at the past.
So I think you must be at least as old as the universe
To have left such an impact upon it.
Your words as colourful as those pictures of nebulas;
Words of wisdom that hover in the mind long after spoken.
The cold, vacant space you inhale becomes blessed by your existence,
Exhaled into the creation of heat, your breath births countless stars.
Your suffering, a black hole.
Dreadful, heavy beyond measure, eternal.
Would swallow us all into death, split us into pieces,
But you see how far we've come and want us to thrive.
So the black hole swallows up the misery of others,
Growing wider, the hole in your heart, endless.
And then you end, so the universe ends.
There are no more stars to be formed,
Nor galaxies to add to the multitude you gave us.
It's all gone.
It just hasn't reached our eyes yet.
It's not that I don't want to give you one of my parts, like you gave me one of yours. Is that I can't give you "me" if I still don't have "myself".