XXLove letters

 

 

When none of us was a fictional character yet,

 

 

It was a usual morning,

My bed had a moldy view,

It looked out at an old water stain on my ceiling,

‘This orgy of nature is to be fixed,

Zeus’ final comedown,

It compromises me,

I’ll fix it tomorrow,

Today I have something important to do’,

I had a dream,

It was so clear,

I walked by a high fence,

 The villa’s name was Balzac,

Curiosity spied on me,

Since no one was near,

I spied on its dweller,

The place looked a lot like Saint-Malo,

It was a middle-aged woman,

Her facial features were calm,

She sat in the bamboo chair,

On the white stone porch,

Under the lonely pine tree,

The sky whispered memories of Notre-Dame,

The  crown served as an umbrella,

It drizzled the soft evening sun over Brittany’s paradise slice,

The light fluttered and dived,

It did not disappear,

 It got reflected  in her blue-grey eyes,

They reminded of my Mom’s,

It contradicted silence,

It was at odds with her calm,

Something in cooing of pigeons,

In the melody of the dull surf,

In the screams of fussy seagulls,

Her gaze was  absent-minded,

It slid from her slender fingers to the tip of her cigarette,

It landed on the sheet of paper,

Near the heavy vintage ashtray,

Her eyes got darker and deeper,

They engaged in a ten year siege,

She peered into faded letters,

An ebony wood rosary paced and prayed in her reasoning hand,

‘My door is always half-open,

Life is a cigarette,

You and I are smoke,

I will try to return,

If I can,

Be my spider with blue claws,

You lurk in a lonely corner,

Waiting patiently for a moth,

With trembling and sprinkling red admiral wings,

Don’t be afraid,

Come here,

We’ll share naphthalene balls,

Feeling each other thrills’,

I tried to return,

I was nowhere,

I couldn’t find myself,

Instead there were many shoes,

Without people,

I was scattered but not scared,

There were children’s sandals, worn out and dear slippers,

Flip flops and high heels.

 

P.S. Be careful. Sometimes interventions go beyond interjections and ejaculate their own independent trajectories. It’s so complicated. The true science.