May 2019
It was deep.
Much more than meaningful.
More like a cornerstone romance,
from a library in the cosmos.
Like a deep sea scroll,
One unobtainable,
And nothing about it tameable.
It was like solstice, but not summer,
Like solstice, but not winter.
Like a fifth season,
One of its own,
Flaunting all the colours.
It was something enchanting,
Like snow falling on palm trees.
Something mesmerising,
Magnetic,
Hypnotic,
And blissful.
It was unclaimed,
Unowned,
Like land on Jupiter.
It was shocking,
But not horrible.
More like waves of adrenalin,
The ones that save your life.
But this pearl was less about my life,
And more about my death.
This was less about him
And more about me.
For all the magic I foresaw,
Was the magic that is me.
...........................................................................................................
I am the supernova romance
Etched on an emerald tablet,
Clutched by Aphrodite.
A story you’d find carved in a dream,
Retold upon rising with bewilder and a gleam.
I was the dance to The Drifters,
Upon 11pm sandy shores,
The kiss under the bridge,
In that electric storm,
The naked swim in the caves,
That night the moon turned rose red,
The whisper louder than the roaring crowd,
That made you smile and nod your head.
I'm the twist of violet,
In an orange fuchsia sunset,
A besotted perfume linger,
Once inhaled you can’t forget.
I was the fire in that winter desert,
Where we talked about the truth,
The zest in your drink,
When we sat squished in that tiny booth.
And I was the 20 white candles lit,
In that studio,
On the French blue coast,
The warm wink in the room when
You stand to give a toast.
Now I’ll be the film you wish you saw on the silver screen,
And the private island you only wish you could have been.
So before I died I was reborn.
From that shell without the veil,
From that pearl without the mourn.
Projection death on a canvas blank.
For the romance I have only myself to thank.
BY NICOLE BONOMI
Much more than meaningful.
More like a cornerstone romance,
from a library in the cosmos.
Like a deep sea scroll,
One unobtainable,
And nothing about it tameable.
It was like solstice, but not summer,
Like solstice, but not winter.
Like a fifth season,
One of its own,
Flaunting all the colours.
It was something enchanting,
Like snow falling on palm trees.
Something mesmerising,
Magnetic,
Hypnotic,
And blissful.
It was unclaimed,
Unowned,
Like land on Jupiter.
It was shocking,
But not horrible.
More like waves of adrenalin,
The ones that save your life.
But this pearl was less about my life,
And more about my death.
This was less about him
And more about me.
For all the magic I foresaw,
Was the magic that is me.
...........................................................................................................
I am the supernova romance
Etched on an emerald tablet,
Clutched by Aphrodite.
A story you’d find carved in a dream,
Retold upon rising with bewilder and a gleam.
I was the dance to The Drifters,
Upon 11pm sandy shores,
The kiss under the bridge,
In that electric storm,
The naked swim in the caves,
That night the moon turned rose red,
The whisper louder than the roaring crowd,
That made you smile and nod your head.
I'm the twist of violet,
In an orange fuchsia sunset,
A besotted perfume linger,
Once inhaled you can’t forget.
I was the fire in that winter desert,
Where we talked about the truth,
The zest in your drink,
When we sat squished in that tiny booth.
And I was the 20 white candles lit,
In that studio,
On the French blue coast,
The warm wink in the room when
You stand to give a toast.
Now I’ll be the film you wish you saw on the silver screen,
And the private island you only wish you could have been.
So before I died I was reborn.
From that shell without the veil,
From that pearl without the mourn.
Projection death on a canvas blank.
For the romance I have only myself to thank.
BY NICOLE BONOMI
(London)
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