Contemporary art°

So smoke the flowers in my head into oblivion, desperately trying to turn memories into stories of pure fantasy. Tell me one more time that my bones grew thorns into your delicate skin. Draw on my back the scars of your heartbreak. Shed tears into my palms so I can turn them into a trophy and place it behind bars on a pedestal of sorts.

Darling, drain it all. Stain the sheets of our wilted petals. Fall apart on the pavement where we first realized it was all breaking into a million pieces.
And then dance.
Dance like the world owes you a lover. Dance like our love owes you empowerment. Move like your soul is made of mesmerizing ondulations.
Is that what you’re looking for?
A voice that resonates into your spine to convince you that you are ok. You are ok. You are ok.

Saudade: /saʊˈdɑːdə/

Close your eyes love, your broken wings can’t fly.
Close your eyes love, you live in a land where memories never fade.
In an imaginarium where your heart is mine and my soul is yours, we fall into the sky dreaming. Playing with nostalgia like we do with fire, the one that lies within our ribs. Dancing with the longing breathing life to our elusive song. Taking it in as we fall apart into oblivion.
Complicated feelings require reformed words, allocating shivers to fingertips and spines to snowflakes.
So gather all your courage and merge it into my lungs, because I can’t concieve of a dream where I’m not spouting flowers out of my lips and into your existence.

Salt.

There is something very poetic about the sound of the waves crashing against your skin, wrapping you in prickly sensations and thrusting you towards my reaching arms. I revolve around my own spine and untangle my legs to make room for yours… you smile, the sun reflecting off your eyes into the horizon, your shoulders a place where I want to make a home.
We swim to shore our faces to the sky, eyes wide shut to a foreign reality. Your fingers slip away. I reach the shore. And you drift away.

Sympathetic vibrations°

There’s a space between my lips and my tongue that is filled with overflowing feelings towards the curve of your smile.

I stare at you.

I listen to you.

But my cells are frantic, running around waiting for the moment they collide with yours.

In my nostalgic mind, I see your eyes lay down upon me and cradle me in your warm embrace. I see freckles on your cheeks map out the constellations and galaxies. And strands of hair fall from behind your ears to tickle my forehead endlessly…

You see there is a fire that won’t put out in my eyes when you cross the room to fall in my arms. And there are perfect moments, when I come home to you restless and uneasy, while you’re just sitting on the couch, the sun gracing your face in the most humbling way, to make me feel whole again.

So let me take those worries out of your nails, untangle your hair and whisper lullabies while you sleep. Because there is a sense of familiarity when you hold on to me, there is a sense of absolute serenity. And that’s how I know that you are my one chance at being remarkable.

Story of three.

I remember the time you put your tongue between my lips and told me how you’ve never kissed anyone with the taste of licorice in their mouths. You let your hands drop down my waist and said that I’m made of the bitter taste of Heaven. Your fingers traced my shoulder and my heart pounded like the fire of a million sun.

I saw in your eyes what I saw in all of my ones, the reasons why you and I could make atoms explode and recreate the universe.

I remember that morning I woke up, and your gentle embrace was holding me like a fetus that’s not ready to come out and face the world. And you told me that life could wait for us to just hide in between the folds of the waves crashing on our shore.

I felt like your body was the home I was desperately looking for, and your bones were the frame to the bed I wanted to sleep in forever.

I remember that day you took me by the hand and we ran across the fallen leaves. You broke my shell and told me that life is too short to do the same things twice. And you whispered to me that sometimes people are like memories even when they stain your sheets with wine.

I only understood that you were talking about me when I saw your slouching back running towards another fleeting flashback.

playlist:

Nym – Lesser Known Good

L’orange – The Good Shepherd

Degiheugi – Le Temps Est Bon (Remix)

 

 

Facts.

There is a tangible reason for the love I feel towards everything that is you. An un-divine explanation from the galaxies within your eyes. There’s a theorem to decipher the magnetic attraction between the tips of my fingers and the arch of your back. I swear to God I’ve read the proof. I saw the graphs that align with the perfect way you fit into my arms at night to fall in between my collarbones. And I drew the charts from the freckles on your back that led me to the constellation in your mind.

My love, you’re exponentially growing roots in my spine, setting me free from all my inhibitions. Morphing into a Lilly in my gut, spreading your leaves in my lungs.

So when I tell you that I know that your love is unfathomable, it’s not because my heart can’t grasp the immensity of warmth that you bring to my soul; it is solely due to the fact that my mind would have never guessed a love so infinite could exist.

Ode to my daffodil.

Hands on marble counters collecting dust from unwanted promises. Leaves torn up from naked branches fallen at the roots, hoping to be recollected in a warm embrace. I look at the walls I used to recognize so well, the pillars that used to keep me so safe, and I think about the last time this room felt like home.

Each time I revisit that house I come back with less spark in my eyes. A little more rotten. But the more I stay away, the more it has a hold on me.

So I walk in between the sheets of paper crumbled on the floor, worried that if I touch them I would succumb to what is written in between the lines, and I go up the stairs trying hard no to lose balance. There used to be pictures here… Now it’s just empty frames of forgotten memories. 

As I reach the little bed of cherry blossoms, I lay my head on stiffened feathers and I wonder if I should be dissapointed that they can’t see how shattered you made me, or proud because you taught me how to hide it so well.