Saturday, December 29, 2012


The scent of your skin
The texture of that fabric
The site of those flowers
The fragrance of those words
A beautiful history
The prose of your arms
The poetry of your eyes
The expansion of those moments
That stillness of silence
I hope
You remember
The kiss that slaughtered us
The breath that glued us
I hope
You still treasure
The rose I sent you
And the ink we spilled over
The words still dance
Around My feet
The bulbs even dazzle
About my side
The chocolate beans
The broken bangle
And the bitten skin
The healing glance
The gentle whisper
And the goodbye tears
Are locked inside
Stamped sealed
Stacked in a box
That Beatles record
You brought me once
Still stuck at
Where we left
Creaks sometimes
To play again
The damp of those several
Rusts plastered on the walls
The sobs
And cries
Resound enmeshed in air
The windowpane you
Loved to touch
Cracked some days before
The blue pencil
The sketch of the boy
You made on wood
Is learning to talk
It even complaints
Since you forgot to give
It the hands
The lipstick
The rubber band
The long muffler
You brought from
Tibetan old lady
With a wrinkled face
Is still wrapped
Around the teddy
The book of stories
The coffee mug
The butts of cigarettes
You smoked that day
I went inside and smoked
Them again
They still taste like your lips
Finally I could you kiss again
The day we made love
We both became both
You can go away
And manage not to answer
The question I asked you
You don’t need to come
And respond the way people do
I still hold you
You are there
I can feel you
Touch you
Hold you
Love the way I have
Always loved you…