To write to you is not easy.....

.....Words 

engorged with desires

Like nipples

Hardens 

slips into a playful stream of verbs

Between the thighs of my silence...running 

Moan my Sufferings , since you're so determined to make me suffer....

This breath 

warm

between my lips

sad

because i cannot speak.

This  wind howling 

how they bite

how they blow me into pièces.

i eat.

I drink 

from the stones and rivers 

of  sorrow

my handcuffed feelings losing their voices in your meadows.

Tiptoeing 

 my eyes understood 

watching a few 

trees....

the solitude of the half lit winters.

Waiting for the sun

waiting for you

if you might come....

if you might come

i write , 

but to write to you is not easy my Darling,

 Words sink like Titanic

in your cold waters.

No matter how i speak

your anwers deeply haunt a silence to which i cannot accede.

This amazing dress of Solitude ,
fibres woven by Silence
You wear it

You wear it so joyfully. 

Untying the stars and the white of snow, 
reprinting it in frost and  fog
 it covers you like your second skin.

Your unhurried glances understands 
that dying
is only awakening.

And there in the heart of  the  forest - the rain is only a memory 
of what you've been.

The songs you heard when 
you were an Ear....Now ,
You're its journey.

The symphonies
of such  solitudes 
where else could they bring you
but to
the thresholds of your own self.

Darkness became
 a delicious ache







as i bend to kiss you.

A desire
too strong for fear to hold back


i let myself fall into my own dying.







And even if you said nothing
i could feel a forest whispering
rivulets trickling from pink peonies.


Fragrant - with your wetness on my fingers.

i inhaled , i drank your feelings 
liquid so sweet on my tongue.

The music of your moaning
the breath stirred there 
the body held the soul.

Tenderly,
i swallowed the warm rivers
Sweetly my wakefulness drifted.