FROM THE COLLECTION: And we call that love?
And a heart breaks.
After that anger.
Will the sun shine tomorrow?
Always the same circle of emotions.
Tears in the morning.
Spitting the river of unspoken narrative in the diary.
Movement before noon.
Movement in the afternoon.
Movement in the evening.
Speeding my car in the turns, feeling a rush of adrenaline when the tires squeak on slippery asphalte.
Sweating on a bicycle uphill.
Through the rocks,
Through the roots,
Through the meadows.
Until my legs burn in pain,
Until my muscles sting,
And I have to stop.
With a smile on my cheeks.
Holding the breath, quick swim strokes, fast heartbeat.
Skin gets itchy of breeze,
My body shakes,
While standing naked on the shore,
Decorated with blue lips.
Yet my mind is at ease.
I take severe pains and transform them into
New stories brighten the horizon.
Daydreaming overtakes the dancefloor.
First period after the last passionate touch.
And I bleed.
Intense bleeding is how my body always cleans the presence of the one who won’t drink from the cup of my erotic nature anymore.
At least not in this life.
Laughter and cries at the same time.
Gratitude and brokenness in the same heart.
Nostalgia and future plans in the same mind.
Stiffness and lust in the same body.
And then one day I wake up,
Like so many times before,
Feeling refreshed, well-rested, and healed.
I wake up just to discover
Trees are still green,
Skies are still blue,
And my heart is still capable of love.
Hoping the next romance won’t leave me heartbroken.
It probably will.
I’ll do it anyway.
Like so many times before.
Like so many times after.