attire of words
I'm going to seek for you
through all the beasts
of my hamlet and yours
till I’ll get tired, and then,
I'm going to take it again
from the beginning.
You will rummage beyond
my eyes and you'll seek for me
inside you like a medicament
soothes a body.
I will send all the wolves
of my soul to catch
your trace and sniff
the scent that’s been
anointed by my wild heart.
You will send all the guards
of your spirit to look for me
through the place where
we kissed each other
for the first time and where
we used pseudonyms designed
nicely, to look like a confusing
plastic love instead of names.
Like that, you'll wander through
each path, gracefully beaten up
with the finesse of my steps and
sculptured by stones in a delta,
just enough to cheer my ankles.
Then, you'll run like a mad one,
howling through the valleys
of my mind, and through
the mountains of my senses
of the woman I am, but also,
through hilly hills of any story
of ours that reminds you of me.
Only after, when you'll find me,
I will love you… — I will love you
exactly as I did it from the moment
when my lips uttered the first verse
for you. I will love you as I'd supposed
to love you, ⟮for forever...⟯, wearing
the attire of words from all our deeds
out of a perpetual spiral, looking for
the absolute in metaphors' space and
the completeness of artistic myths.
