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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2025-01-14 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
I am being betrayed, as I speak:
She comes out at slightly irregular and prophetic times, sometimes full of grandeur, but still hesitant, some other time, disguised in a whisper. She leaves me alone, but comes back, as expected, to parade in vestments of desire, embodiment of either love or despair laid on mundane but often penitent lips She loves me alone when I bless her away, she loves me more, when I hold her against the silhouette of a life-giving kiss. I am being betrayed, as I cry out: she always leaves me as she lets me be the truest version of who I could be, for seconds, over and over: empty of myself, closer to my own demise, unwaveringly rehearsing the departure that would separate us forever. I betray myself, as I live: I am simply trying to mold her in a poem that might save us both for good. A seed in the palm of the wind: my breath
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