We have come here for some kisses
and some hugs,
for the fire throbbing inside a chest,
for the honey exuding among the foliage
of a springtime that never ends.
We were dragged by the smell of a dream
or a hope,
as a freshly open bread
on a morning table awakening,
a promise, a clinking laugh
rattling in the distance,
the longing of a joy
widening beyond this land.
The rest were voiceless stubbles,
dying echoes flooding
empty dwellings,
a trembling hand retreating,
some lips tightened
with no destiny,
in endless flight,
groping into the dark night
of oblivion and severed memory.
We have come here for the voluptuous
tenderness of a skin
offered
in a smooth caress for the abandonment
and the absence,
for the sweetness of a wine
shedding into the blood
throbbing songs and feasts.
The rest were frayed mends
upon a void,
upon a primal hungry of kisses
and hugs
after the first crying.
