I sense you in every raindrop, It smells like your smile. The trees offer me your touch. Every flower whispers your name. Every pebble, every rock, is A fragment of our dreams. There is nothing, nothing at all That would allow me To forget your absence.
I don’t even need to close my eyes To feel the warmth of your kiss Or the softness of your touch Pretending I’m with you Cradling in your lap Close to your heart So close, so close I’m almost inside you.
It shouldn’t hurt so much, the air should not be poison, making holes in my lungs every breath in and out. Or maybe it should, reminding me that I still feel, I’m still alive even when I wish I wasn’t.
I’m counting the grains of the sand in the desert, each one is a kiss on your body. I sift the drops in the sea between my fingers, each one is a moment, when you’re in my thoughts. With breathing of universe my love for you is expanding. Every cloud in the sky, forming and disappearing, is dreams of your touch. How am I supposed not to groom this tree of our souls?
You called for me and I came. I took off my shirt, I kicked off my shoes and barefoot I walked through the fields. It was very dark and I was so cold, but you called for me and I had to come. Then, when I reached you, you turned away, looking at something only you saw. I said “I am here” and you said “I am not”. Ashamed I returned to my hidden chamber, waiting for you to call for me again.
Our love story was short, ending almost before it began, but that doesn’t make it any less real, that doesn’t make it any less true. Only a few lines, only a few words, yet in those words all our hearts lived and died. You were my lover for those few nights, I was your mistress for those few days – thank you, my love, for a heartbeat of us.
We could spend our days smiling at each-other, caressing our souls with tender words and looks. We could spend our time sharing secrets of life, celebrating each gentle touch across the universe of love. We could spend our lives being thankful for each breath that keeps us together, ’till the next birth.
We could. We don’t. We won’t.
Alenka H., 2021