dimanche 2 mars 2014


At home in the lamplight,
Time seems frozen and evenings
are lenghtening.
I resemble a little divine statue
and the light includes me only
through the night.
And it is difficult to speak
of the lonely night -
this dark absence of you
to turn away into as if tenderness
didn't tire or die and the crease
in our crumpled sheets
with the familiar place of my sole body.

2 commentaires:

myra a dit…

..this darkness...
a beautiful poem, ma chere grande folle de soeur!comme je t,admire!!!

ma grande folle de soeur a dit…

Merci Myra mon inconditionnelle belle admiratrice :) mille bisous à toi