Cold wind, warm, softly whispered through my hair loose,
costantly stirred by my trembling hands, and it came into clothes
running my back tensed by grains of shivers falling down,
untill pelvis, until thigh, until foot.
It suggested me to turn towards and to look at you one last time
to satisfy again my eyes carving for contemplating you in your icy detachment.
But your big hands, your arms around my waist,
your lips kissing my standing skin, your strong breath on my neck;
theese should be the last real memories of you,
who have remained unreal in my desires.
I wanted to look again at you.
No comments:
Post a Comment