Poem in Thirteen Parts

I

It all ended. I enjoyed it. I went back home. A week went by, five, ten. And now I lament not having enjoyed more.

II

In the most inopportune moment I saw you and I let my guard down. I couldn’t bear myself any longer and I gave into your being. Maybe it was the circumstances in which we met, maybe it was that I’d just got back. Maybe it was just your eyes. Maybe it was just my mind.

III

...I’m impatient for you to arrive, because you’ve got me rather distracted by your absence.

…and now your presence distracts me.

IV

I’m wondering.

Wondering wondering wondering wondering much.

V

And then I turn around and I see you among the trees waving me goodbye in that elegant and abstract way of yours that you’ve never had, and when I raise my hand to wave you back I realise that I’m still in bed.

VI

And she walked along the peaceful streets. She walked in heels and a jacket. She walked upright, balanced. She walked with a question mark dancing on her clear, white forehead.

VII

I wonder how many times I’ve woken up. How many times, if we get into it, could I have fallen asleep without even noticing. I often think they could’ve been twenty or a thousand, or maybe they can’t even be counted anymore. The moment you left I woke up again, and someone else came into my life, and then someone else, and I’m sure someone else will come as well.

VIII

During a moment of vigil, an angel arrived.

Incommensurable eyes, sublime lips.

Laughter made of crystal. A jump into the void as I see your eyes watch.

I daydream; clouds, vapours, inconvenient shyness and a little something else.

Impatience gnaws at me; words escape me. My tongue gets twisted at one sole possibility.

Hope frees me and I begin again.

IX

I want to feel your hands all over me,

as if it was the first time,

the first time I never had,

that I did have, but I suffered so.

X

My life is a rollercoaster.

Emotions go up and down at the images that go in and out of my mind; passions, longings, wishes that spring up when I least expect them. Songs at the top of my voice that some mistake erroneously for screams. Sorrows that have been left behind and flickers of illusions that run ahead, my faithful guides that ask of me no more than to push forward. Hopes conditioned by my will. Free dreams of dilated pupils. Forced patience in a world in which I don’t even remember I live. Tickles in my stomach and in other unmentionable areas, that heal me from an unfamiliar past. Sweetness in his memory, and in his, and in his, and in his…

…but I don’t think that in others too. Uncertainty in my future; grace in my confusion.

Isn’t it like that for everyone?

XI

I’m surprised by the greatest pain I’ve ever known, which is also the one that has come least close to make me cry.

I don’t know if I’m coming or I’m going, or if maybe everything goes around and around.

XII

An illusory thought woke me up while I was writing yesterday: that fear that I talked about, the shock I caused myself, the distance that I yearned for…

Profound gratitude to you who’ve come into my way; your presence and your closeness have broken, for once and for all, the pattern that has kept me static for a whole lifetime.

XIII

And the journey begins again.

~*~

Thank you for reading my surreal poetic prose flash fiction series (or *was it* a fiction?).

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