seconds in one final hug

baby i know you shiver
when i gather my clothes
from the floor,
when i get my watch
from the night stand,
put on the ring on my hand,
and then kiss your mouth,
hand, and knees
just after the clock strikes three
after that recluse midnight,
when the bed is cold
after dark,
after i leave,
when we wait for the cab downstairs
and we rethink our days’ affairs
and all the inevitable ends,
and i know
that with the lights off
the tears fall,
unseen, unheard,
when it’s you and yourself only
and the bright screen of a phone,
and maybe a voice in the back of your head
saying that you are not enough;
but baby you are worth it-
anything and everything
under the sun-
and i’m sorry,
so sorry;
the sorriest i have ever been,
believe me.

take me as i am

you don’t get
to pick and choose
my woes;
none of us did.

in this muddy
liminal space,
the deal’s always
all in:
no part’s discarded,
no scar’s forgotten.

you do mine
and i’ll do yours,
every single
broken sob.

you don’t get
to single-handedly
let the weight
of your past
sit
in my heart,
nor leave me alone
in those long
stretches of silence.

you don’t get
to leave your pains
in my hands,
and never support
me
in mines.

i don’t care
to live
under your spell,
as long as i get
to have it all:
the good,
the bad,
but, most importantly,
the present.

detoxing

it’s simple:
you hurt me
when you said
you didn’t wanna
hurt me,
when you didn’t
want me
when you said
you wished
to cherish me,
keep me
and never lose me
as a friend,
that this was
aaaaallllll for the best,
to protect me,
as you didn’t
see a future
with me,
a future
in me
as you said
you regarded me
highly,
but when
the sun rose
and the deed
was done,
you turned over,
hid under
the covers
and without a goodbye,
denied me
the safety of a hug,
the prize
of a final kiss,
the tenderness
and cordiality
of a simple thank you,
(a word would suffice.
you always have
all these words
for every damn
conversation,
every situation!
yet, you couldn’t
spare me
a single one.)
so i put my shoes
back on
in the living room,
regretting
the mess
i put myself into
right at the first day of the year
(must have been
some kind of fucking
imbecile record!)
and let myself
out the door,
smoking
through your building’s
corridor
(fuck you! if you can’t
even kiss me
on the mouth,
i’ll smoke where i want,
i don’t care)
and waited for a cab
on the sidewalk,
spent
drunk
disheveled-
and, once again,
used
utterly alone.

the ex talks

you know
i’d do
anything
you ask me to.
always.
i’d run
to the edge of the world
and jump
if you asked,
i’d be back
in your bed
if you clapped,
i’d do
as told
like the good
girl
i know
i am.

however,
instead,
we just end up
drunk
in a mcdonalds
parking lot-
at two am-
sharing a smoke
and a diet coke
that’s nested
between the seats.

later,
we might even share a kiss
or two,
but no more
than a mere word
about how mundane
the world
now is,
or how ruined
we are.
we’ll never talk,
though,
about how
we can’t talk.

so we’ll just
cruise
down the roads
in silence,
the air frizzy,
buzzing
with electricity
from neon signs
that are so pretty,
and blurry
city visions
of headlights
and stoplights.

and even
later on,
on the sidewalk
close to home,
i’ll bang my head
on the floor,
dreading
the morning light
that’ll soon come,
regret
taking you back,
with all
these thoughts
plaguing my mind
about how
letting you in
once more
might feel nice,
but in the end
it will just feel
like losing you twice.

how i’ll cope?
it doesn’t
matter.
we’ll never
talk about that.

birdy

on that day,
the sunset
was violent.
she walked
into the void,
in the dark,
completely silent,
as the sky fell
devoid
of any light.
the flowers,
before in bloom,
had all died.
the moon
out was blown
and the only hand
to reach out
was the devil known’s.
she didn’t want
to go,
but she was alone.
what else could she do
but see it through
and go along?

so she crossed the bridge
to the ridge
of the earth,
to infinity’s edge.
no other human
in sight,
she felt no fright
as she jumped
into the bed of little stars
behind her eyelids,
into the twilight:
crossing the thin air,
all worlds,
‘the fireflies are gorgeous’
were her last words.

edifices

i said
i wouldn’t let
you get inside
my heart,
but i did.

in there
you built
a nest
of want,
confusion
and twigs.

but you
don’t come
to live in it-
always
a vacationer.

so what do i do
with this empty house
of expectation?

i can’t bring
myself to demolish it.

so i let
you hurt me
when you want,
hurt me fine,
hurt me good,
because even
a visitor only
is way better
then the scene
of me
utterly,
completely
alone.

i’ll dust
the living room
then,
put on
a coffee pot:
is the only way
i’ve ever known.

on the clock

honey, let go
of all your regrets,
make an effort
to never forget
that time is the ruler
of our lives,
the relentless king,
the one that touches
and makes flourish
or perish
all living things.

have that in mind
when i ask why
go time a-wasting
with senseless playing,
with foolish games
of catch and release?
so try and make peace
with your past,
tie up
those odd and ends…
and give yourself to me.

remember:
the more time we spend
chasing
one another senselessly,
the less time
we have living.

the older we get,
the prizeless the games.
so why
you deny me
what you actually
also want?

tempus fugit, darling,
so don’t hold back,
embrace what is
to you presented,
forget the stain
of old resentment
and let me in,
once and for all,
before our time runs out.

expectation/reality

i know this wasn’t
what you were expecting;
you wanted fizzy, happy,
and got high as a kite,
distraught, dissociating.
i meant to have one drink
but the gin
was so cold, so soothing;
so well it matched my mood
that a pack of smokes
became two,
and time ran away from me.
i’m really sorry
that i’m late,
that it’s so late.

that it’s too late.

and i can see in your face
that you are frustrated
that you wore your prettiest dress,
tidied up your house
to invite over a mess
of a person, a downright
embarrassment.
my sincerest apologies
with hands in pocket
is pretty much
all i have to offer
at the moment.

and i wasn’t meant to cry
tonight, i swear,
the smeared mascara
isn’t a designed detail.
none of this was in the plans.
so i’ll dry my eyes now,
but if you want to kick me out,
that’s fine, i totally understand.

but if you can spare a moment
before the goodbyes,
i promise i won’t
get cigarette ash on the couch
and that i’ll try
a couple of jokes,
and not to choke
on any more hiccups,
on any more sadness.

i’ll kiss you tenderly
as i used to as well,
i promise
it’ll be sweet, chaste,
we won’t let your pretty matte lipstick
go to waste.

it’s no excuse, i know,
and i’ll swear, on my knees,
but i just feel terribly uneasy
all the time now,
like there’s no peace
in my heart,
nothing to hold me
as i’m falling to pieces.

i’m all over the place
and have nothing to save face,
but if you have it in you
to let me stay,
i promise i’ll lay still
and silent
on the corner of your bed;
all i’ll ask of you
is to let me open up for once…
sincerely! untethered!
and for you to just listen,
and maybe hold me close
until i can feel
your eyelashes tickle my skin.

teen years

there hasn’t been
a single sunny day this week.
there hasn’t been a reason to speak
nor to smile either.

there has only been
rain
and stifled thoughts
in stifled rooms,
a sense of impending doom
as the eclipse
takes over the sky.

the beautiful city
is fading into
nothing more than a gray memory.

cabin fever,
it’s time we leave it here…
we’re out of our minds,
so let’s go out then
while it’s dark
and little can we see in front of our eyes.
let’s get high by the beach,
with the freezing wind
that tangles in our bones
reminding us
that we are still alive.

let’s fly away together
for a moment
and forget all these silences,
these absences,
forget how long it has been
since we had a real conversation
with real words and real meaning.
let’s talk about our few joys,
our many pains, our muddled feelings…

anything.

so bundle yourself in your coat
and let’s dip our toes
in the icy sea-water
until there’s frostbite.
let’s run and cause a fright
in the good citizens,
break windows, blow smoke
all over this provincial town;
let’s paint the walls red,
scream like we are mad
in the suburban backstreets.

let them call the cops, love.
i ain’t worried a slight.
let them arrest us, love.
we’ll go down with a fight.
let them have us booked,
our mugshots, black-eyed,
will be immortalized in the records,
in eternity-
i think this
is the only way
they’ll hear our plight,
that, for once,
they’ll say our names,
recognize us as humans!

maybe
it’s the only way
that we may survive the times.

hyde

i can’t pinpoint the exact
moment things changed.
i can’t precise the time
of the split; beginning nor end.
from one day to another,
from night to morning?
all i know is that, suddenly,
without warning,
there were two of you.

in some familiar moments
it’s the you i’ve always known.
i recognize your tone,
your smile doesn’t falter.
our kisses are practiced,
fitted,
routine is like we always do:
dinner for two
and the dishes are washed,
the talks are talked,
the room lit by the images
of the television on mute.

sweet as fruit,
i turn off the lights
and twirl your hair
that’s fanned on the pillow
whispering sweet-nothings
in the shell of your ear.

in this softer world,
i’m yours to adore, to cherish.
i’m your lover and your keeper.

and then, like in a weird trance,
there is this version of you
that i can’t translate,
can’t read.
it’s from honey to foe
in a matter of minutes.
out of nowhere,
i’m presented with glares
as if i am a villain.
in this version,
it’s another you, armed with bitter words,
and that sometimes acts
as if you don’t even know me.

vile as bile,
you rise from the bed
in a jump,
turn on the lights
saying you want me to go.

in this upside world,
i’m yours to hurt, to bruise.
i’m a stranger and your enemy.

so tonight, before i walk
in the rain to your apartment,
which version should i expect you to be?