I’ve got lost in a cup of coffee in the days before you arrived.

I’ve thought thoughts that were nothing like my previous life.

I looked at them from the edge of this new life and I dared believe.

There was nothing but my God of pleasure everywhere.

I waited for you, like never before, anxious, almost scared.

The sun was so unsettled on the roofs.

I was sitting on the floor next to all my passionate words,

Looking at you through the glass of white wine.

You had just returned from the East and you hair was cinder.

I told you about how I never stopped to look at anyone who has ever loved me

And what I’m looking for might not even exist, still, there’s always someone loving me somewhere, like you are, here, now. You didn’t mind.

You told me about the ancient book, back home, on the island,

The one about nine worlds and their rituals.

You said I should use my words about myself in the simplest of sentences,

Take out the vowels and make one single word of what is left

Then wear it on my skin until it gets into my subconscious

Into my lungs, into my dreams,

And I become one with my will.

Then I will be certain. The sun will settle, I will no longer feel scared and your hair will be black again.

You said I should let go of what I lived and think about the big blue we are to visit this summer.

It is all real.

And so I twirl around the sand glass these days and let the coffee get cold.

Amorgos is close.

 

M.

 

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