Passion

The colourful blending
Of sinful pleasures
Projected
On the black screen
Of some
Severe ordeal
To come
A latent mind
Suspended
To a breath
Radiant
Ready
On the verge
Of a bursting out
Like a ripe
juicy
Pomegranate

Your feet (Pablo Neruda)

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

 

Moon shine

I'm dreaming of
Your white pale face
As still as the moon
And of my dark fingers
Indecently
Hurting
Your Sacred
Scarlet
Lips

Love and Loss - Donna Lynn Hope

“I think anyone who opened their heart enough to love without restraint and subsequently were devastated by loss knows that in that moment you are forever changed; a part of you is no longer whole. Some will never again love with that level of abandon where life is perceived as innocent and the threat of loss seems implausible. Love and loss, therefore, are linked.” ~ Donna Lynn Hope

Platonic Love

With you, I build myself into the annihilation of me. Because: without you.
The perpetual contradiction. The freedom to chose and to be chosen. 
In ecstatic Bliss and deconstruction.
Reconstruction. 
Sisyphe at work.
Platonic Love.
The most beautiful love of all. With no begining, and no end.
Eternal.
Never in the flesh, sweat and breath melted.
Endless doubts and fears. Between heaven and Hell.
I find us nowhere else than in the absence of us, and among the magnificent splendor of our words defying silence.


Avec toi, je me construis dans l'anéantissement de moi-même. Parce que: sans toi.
La contradiction perpétuelle. La liberté de choisir et d'être choisie. Dans une félicité extatique. 
Déconstruction. Reconstruction. 
Sisyphe à l'oeuvre.
Amour Platonique.
Le plus bel Amour qui soit. Sans début et sans fin. 
Eternel.
Jamais dans la chair, la sueur et les souffles mêlés.
Des doutes et des craintes sans fin. Entre le Paradis et l'Enfer.
Je ne nous trouve nulle part ailleurs que dans l'absence de nous, et dans la magnifique splendeur de nos mots défiant le silence.

A dream

I think
It was your voice
I guessed
In a dream
Among the blurred
And dark hours
Of sleep

Musical and warm keys
Blossoming
Out of nowhere
Like scarlet petals
Or bluish clouds
Vivid intonations
Of assertions 
And doubts
Whispers
And shouts
Undecipherable
Beautifully corrupted
And false

Just the echo
Of my own sleepy mind
Inside the mirror
Of my dreams

I am

I am
Your darkness
Added to mine
Your solitude
Like a knot
Of unescapable
Despair
Firmly tied
To my fever

I am
Your lips
Your smile
Your neck

I am
The fantomatic
Echo of your voice
Invading my soul
With waves of
Delight

I am
the Bliss you scatter into
My shameless dreams
I am
The unnamable pains
you screw into my stomach
The ingratitude
That gives no rest

I am
What I wish we were
And what we are not

The eternal confusion
Among the splendid
Evidence

What's the nature of an agony?

My pain isn't bigger today
Than it was yesterday
It is not lower either
It is not just exactly the same 

It's like a continuation

Today's pain
Added
To yesterday's one

The unsolved
Mystery


The same
Black blood
Boiling

Wondering on the question
Of your
Implication
The degree
and the stake

Your blindness
Digging
My stomach
Merciless

You don't see
The abyss
That I see
The unspeakable
Despair
Of seeing
What you don't

I am
No more
Never again

We are
No more
Never again

The comforting
'One'
The thought
Of our entireness

Destroyed 
Reduced to crumbs

All alone
All along

Just a delightful
Blinding illusion

So easily broken
By some bewitching
Other stranger's words
Giving me 
Nausea
The importance
Things 
Can so easily take
In an unconscious
Affront

The night
Invariably
Swallows
The black scribbles
Meekly
Inevitably
Into exploding nightmares

Then a silence
An interlude
or a respite
Bringing
In unconsciousness
The illusion
Of a peacefulness
That a white dawn
Spreads again
Into the veins

Slowly
Progressively
painfully back
To the evidences

To face
The daily fight

And your carefree
Amazing capacity
To hurt
Without meaning it

Taking back in a breath
The Power
You have accurately
Endowed her with

Her power has become
Your strength
Her weakness
And your wishes
As her lover
Her dependance

Reflecting on
The both parts of a whole
Spoken into the mouth of guests
Drinking wine
At a Symposium

Les Misérables - Victor Hugo

"Dieu est derrière tout, mais tout cache Dieu. Les choses sont noires, les créatures sont opaques. Aimer un être, c'est le rendre transparent...

    Aimer, voilà la seule chose qui puisse occuper et emplir l'éternité. À l'infini, il faut l'inépuisable...

    L'amour participe de l'âme même. Il est de même nature qu'elle. Comme elle il est étincelle divine, comme elle il est incorruptible, indivisible, impérissable. C'est un point de feu qui est en nous, qui est immortel et infini, que rien ne peut borner et que rien ne peut éteindre. On le sent brûler jusque dans la moelle des os et on le voit rayonner jusqu'au fond du ciel...

    Ce que l'amour commence ne peut être achevé que par Dieu...

    Ô vous qui vous aimez, tout cela est dans l'amour. Sachez l'y trouver. L'amour a autant que le ciel, la contemplation, et de plus que le ciel, la volupté...

    Je suis dans la nuit. Il y a un être qui en s'en allant a emporté le ciel...

    Oh ! être couchés côte à côte dans le même tombeau la main dans la main, et de temps en temps, dans les ténèbres, nous caresser doucement un doigt, cela suffirait à mon éternité...

    Vous qui souffrez parce que vous aimez, aimez plus encore. Mourir d'amour, c'est en vivre..."

                                                  Les Misérables (Victor Hugo)

 

Black ink

Ink
Spreading
Through the indelible
Mark
The significant
Passion
Scratching the skin
Deeply
Infiltrated

The guilty act
Of love
Written behind
The sacred mask

Arabeques
Melting
With burning chills
A forbidden story
Whispered along
The sensual
Aspirations

Where the tiniest pigments 
Blossom
In infinite curves
The colored ones
The black ones
Melting into
The timeless
Alchemy
Of an Heavenly
Accomplishment
Colors and unbolted forms
Powerfully vibrating
Into a typical
New smell
Telling
The despair and the bliss
Of the worshiped
Unbearable
Un-beingnness
Of Us