Etichete


My breasts glazed with the moon’s light
Moon, watermelon slice of blood and lust

Counting the stars more stars than the days lost count of the days
When I walked like a goddess waiting for somebody to see me a goddess

The wonder that nobody sees me at all
Only few cells here and there I discarded as trails
As prey
No beast kneeling its hunger to me

The waste, come to think of it
The dramatic torso with honey spread on my skin
For somebody to value the thoughtful gesture
The meaning of it

Look at it, how vulnerable and ripped

This is the end of the world with nobody around
To hold my whispers dear

Decades of cravings in dark
Shows turning in no applauses
Empty horizons wearing crowns for others
Letters to many
Never at least one to me
Exhibits of breasts and tights on slices of lust

Nobody interested to sample me

My heart gave up on waiting for witnesses of our life together

My heart a dome
I the prisoner
My syllables scattered in dirt

There is me causing myself to die of being too much of an I.