Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to...


Maria Gornell



I cannot stop answering to his eyes

though they remain a black ocean;

a gloom of ice unpreventable freeze.


I commit to madness till they melt

follow the hollow blue-black edge

paint the esoteric shapes into fire

flies that burn and burn to want

of flight.


Till his body ignites

into spontaneous human combustion

risen like phoenix

his ash reborn quench


for a shady green path led


Following my smile(s) chant

laid blissfully adored in spaces

of psyche.


I cannot stop answering to the memories

sometimes sparked with a single word.

how music and breath dilate his pupils

causing a relapse into ancient quest.


When I awaken with his lashes in my hair

with the flicker of a brief moment

a second when our eyes met and

danced to the music of universe.




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