The Last Grip

A hug from a distance,
a warmness that lasts a minute,
the cold of winter surrounding our naked bodies.
You turn on the other side,
and I follow the strange presence of a body,
a warm human body next to mine.
Your kisses are full of heaven,
but inside I burn of emptiness,
while your smile was everything I wanted to see,
on that cold, dark night.
Just for one little time, just on that moment.
And I promise you that I won’t try it anymore,
I won’t dream of me and you anymore,
I will just turn away from your story.
My destiny is far away,
the long-needed separation is behind the corner,
the challenge.
I’m starving of being good at something,
the accent I can’t understand,
the automatic response of my brain.
A future, from where I will be able to watch that single night,
smile at it, write to you,
and find that same old fragile tension.
The last hopes that hold me here,
thin ropes about to stretch and break,
letting me free to fly in the warmer air of the path,
all dreams funnel on iron wings,
in the sun, in the brilliance I can see under palm trees,
other people, other fears,
and in dreams, I’m sure I will still hold your warm hands,
my last rope,
my last invisible grip.

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Informazioni su erikberti

It's frankly hard to describe myself in this little space, but I'll try to do my best: I'm 29, graduated in fashion and design. I love to write tales and novels and to study languages... I love words, their meaning, their importance, the deepest emotions that they can create when they are close to each other, the stories one can tell with words. Yes, stories. I'm obsessed by the infinite number of stories that can be told. This is my personal diary, I will post poetries, writings and streams of consciousness, that will be probably gathered together in a collection. Thank you for following my dream!

Pubblicato il 29/12/2014, in Free Flow, Poetry con tag , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Aggiungi il permalink ai segnalibri. Lascia un commento.

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