, , , , ,

You’ve got a gift and a talent

which enhances that gift.

When you release it,

the enchantment is glorious.

You’ve got a gift and a talent

and a smile where my eyes

compliantly linger

while I’m hanging on your lips.

You’ve got a soul and a mind.

Your soul always yearns for harmony,

your mind translates into actions

what your soul feels.

You’ve got a soul and a mind

and flesh that vibrates

underneath my touch

when I can’t hide the need

for a deeper intimacy.

You’ve got a heart and a will.

A heart which can overcome barriers

and a will inspired by your heart.

You’ve got a heart and a will

and blood that streams

with your emotions.

I can feel it rushing through your veins

as we hold each others tight.

You’ve got the force of the elements


Free words


, , ,

She used to eat words.
Although words
couldn’t save her
from starvation.

She used to wear words.
Although words
couldn’t protect her
from chill.

She used to love words
although words
couldn’t give her
any affection.

She used to live on words
because words were
all that she had.


, , , ,

The window frames
a rectangle of skyline.
A carillon plays Brahms’s lullaby.
The neighbors’ baby
is not sleeping yet.
A bedside lamp throws
a soft light on our serene faces.
Nothing special, it could seem.
And yet this night is a delight.
I lean on your body
while you’re speaking.
Your voice is music for my heart.
I love the words you say
I love the way you say them.
With my index finger
I follow the lines of your veins
like the roads of I place
I love to explore.
We almost perfectly match.
Our tastes, our thoughts, our ideals.
Our minds meet where
our souls merge together.
But now, my sweetheart
now that I’m rubbing my cheek
on your shoulder,
like a cat looking for cuddles,
now I can’t help thinking
that I want your sweat.



, , , ,

For so many years her nights had been more similar to escapes than to moments of quietness. Her husband slept too close to her and often he crushed her body with his, almost suffocating her. So she tried to distance herself from him, but he got even closer, ‘till, in her desperate attempt to gain a little of space, she found herself on the edge of the bed ( many times she fell down). In Winter there was also the battle for blankets. Her husband cocooned in covers, while her teeth were chattering for cold. She could only pull the covers with all her strength and hold them tight. Day after day she got used to sleep seizing the mattress with one hand and with the other holding the blankets. A habit that went on even when she was awake; always feeling on the edge of a chasm, clinging to life with one hand, holding her few certainties with the other one and having the haunting sensation that somebody was going to crush her.

Free words #26


, , ,

Words were fluttering 
on our smiles.
Slightly and swiftly
they followed the playful traces
of our orthographic amusement,
of our syntactical games,
of our grammatical enchantment.
Only the silvery cascades
of our laughters interrupted
the melody of our phrases.
A sudden silence made words
perch on the branches
of our feelings.
It was the sound of our kiss.