A Cappella
The mere thought of you
sterilizes my air
clean antiseptic
that purifies
an infected nigh of lonely bed
naked body, companionless,
forced to perform solo
to relieve the lusty pain.
Soft instrument attached to me
let me pull your strings
as I .... with him in mind
play myself
singing
"a cappella" ... whispers only
... pleasure laments
... frantic outburst
sexual notes ...
the symphony.
Patient Passenger
I sit and wait.
Hands demurely on my lap,
like a lady.
Patience dressed in white,
pure, innocent, naive.
As the first touch.
As the first kiss.
Is being so long,
many leaves have fallen,
many waves have washed the shores,
stones abraded,
foam recycled.
Ask the mirror,
I have changed.
My skin is not as flawless,
the eyes a little tired,
the flesh dragged down.
Still I wait
for him to come.
My lips will keep the freshness
of a red apple eager to be bitten.
Patience will be rewarded,
hungry heart will be feed.
Passenger waiting for a connecting fly,
they will soon call my name.
I will ........calmly wait.
Visions
I like the vision of books
aloofly piled up
on top of my bedside table.
The same way
I like the vision of you
dressed in love.
The rainbow of white and yellow pages
guard the postcards that I never send,
the ones that bring back
memories of glorious days.
Hands that I never felt
holding my body
in graceful manner.
How many books
how many pages.
How many days
how many places.
Not to go
but to touch
to explore tenderly.
Take me to far away lands
make me cross the sea
and bring me back.
Give me postcards to remember by
sweet voyage of a long night,
warming the pages of my life.
