Posts Tagged ‘dream’



i like the early morning,
when there are no people talking;

the only sounds that break the silence
are the ones that tend to lull
us back to sleep, in a slow rhythm:
white noise from the fan,
breaths, hot and soft, on the pillow.

i like that, when the first rays
light up the bedroom,
usually there is only
content quietness.

I am reassured
by early mornings,
by the simple routine of
hot water flowing to the ground coffee,
the clinking of the mugs on the table.

i like the brief moments
when my body is still infused
with the confusion of dreams:
consciousness still seeping into reality.

I am comforted by
the smell and warmth of the sheets,
of the shampoo and soap you wash with,
the brewing coffee,
the sizzling waffles.

it’s one of the very few moments
when I get to just be.


come autumn


I dreamt that we consumed
our summer love a little later,
let our hearts blossom
with a bit of a delay,
honoring the slow burn of our
veiled desire.

I dreamt that I uttered my love
right into the shell of your ear
so that the autumn breeze wouldn’t carry my words away.

I dreamt that we enjoyed my vacation
minute by minute,
and that I took you to all the spots I wanted
to show you,
courted you nicely and smoothly
with all the quirky dates I had planned
(but that we didn’t go because we didn’t
get to be)

I dreamt that we embraced tightly,
skin on skin,
under the mild sun of Copacabana beach.
sprawled on the still-hot white sand
e conversed deeply over cold beer,
laughing among
butterfly kisses on the nose,
hickeys on the neck
and flirty bites on the thighs…

(until your lover found out,
that is,
and punched me in the eye.
then, in my dream, you cried,
a heart divided between two darlings…
but don’t cry.
she’s got you now.)

forest green eyes


she’s got a shyness
that is typical of her,
a melancholy
that is an inherent vice.

but what makes her timid
also makes her deeply pretty,
specially in the after-hours
when speech is no longer coherent
(and she whispers
her idyllic poems, her dreamy spirit,
– so low –
directly into my ear.)

and it’s early in the morning,
when she trembles in my arms,
goosebumps all over her arching back,
that I see her guarded reticence

and all the strength
of character
that she carries
in the purple circles underneath her eyes.

memories that become clearer and clearer


I still can remember awakening to the sound of your last message to me, on that fateful day:

“did you dream of me? because I thought of you lovingly late last night.
did you hear me calling? I cried your name as we drove by your house.
I am sorry I had to go”

venus starts to move forward


you make my head spin dizzy.

shame that your reality
is not a tenth of my fantasy

(in my head, our kisses are so pretty)



it’s funny how dreaming of you softens the edges of hate. maybe it is like this because of the fabric in which dreams are threaded, so soft and cozy in those early hours of the morning, between alertness and sleep. maybe it is the vapors of the hot shower, so warm and inviting, that mingle and mangle my memories and trick the brain, making me replay the image of your best smile, the one back from times when shit wasn’t so bad. or maybe the dreaming thaws what’s frozen in my heart, since every time it happens, it’s the same thing, the exact same scene: a phone that rings and your voice that calls my name from the other side, so small and needy, and I imagine your lips moving softly, pleadingly, imagine your body as I cross the distance in a blink, shoulders hunched in defeat, and you look broken, feel broken as I put my arms around you, surrounded in a hug, like a fragile thing that fell from its nest.

and you are the one to talk about how I’ve always been unable to resist ’em broken things…