When space is silence…

Words, sounds, and space…


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The hollow at the night’s end

All chiseled good looks      
you fix your hair      
with a half smile       I stare

You are that foreign     
confident puzzle     
you chose to be     

        I let you be   
        I let you stain my dream   
        with superior charm and wit   

        I will forget you anyway
        after the dumb alarm
        cries its feckless call

        Not yet               Not!

I’m sober with a wine high
I smile a winner look
The luminous day turns dark

You approach me
I reach for your hand

I’m in the hollow of your arms

We fall into lucid passion
You close my eyes

Now we dance a spiral waltz

I touch your hair
You seduce my lips

We neglect the vulnerable nature
of our eternity

… spin in limitless rapture

You touch my hips
I kiss your neck

A whirl in absolute ecstasy

        The feckless call
        Sun invading my bed

        The silent hollow of this morning!

        I shut my eyes      eager
        to erase the path of no return

        The silent hollow in my room!

                        I refuse

        will not forget!


_____Adriana Citlali
XXIII-VIII-MMXV

Sunday Whirl (Wordle #213)


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Confused reality

Hair!


I heard something   
         –maybe your name   
                        your voice   
                           or smile   

 Fast beats   
Thin air   
     Flushed skin   

I curl my hair with my fingers   
   doubt my disguise   

Do not face the door!   
 Control your anxiety   
Stop  expecting               him        …

             The more you clutter my thoughts
            the less I can    pretend

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear

 Sudden laughs
Quick eyes
   Restless hands

            I look down      sit up straight      smile
            Impatient hands flip my hair:
left                              right        left left                right

 Sharp footsteps
Fuzzy eyesight
   Confused reality

It’s not you!
            I touch my forehead
              …   let my hair down


_____Adriana Citlali
XXVIII-I-MMXV



for excuse me, there’s a hair in my poem! | dVerse