Slight touch - E. A. (psychology books to read txt) 📗
- Author: E. A.
Book online «Slight touch - E. A. (psychology books to read txt) 📗». Author E. A.
the greyish river remembers
to keep our scent in its waters
We somehow will always live
in the travelling breeze of Time,
In the old decayed doorways
where we kissed defying Fate
and every treasured second
will shine softly for all lovers
even in the darkest of nights.
Secret
No one knew about their story,
no one knew when it started,
no one knew it would live,
branded in their souls forever.
No one knew anything about it,
they just kept their secret safe.
Only the river and the old bridge
were their trusted friends.
Their ways parted one day,
as those of star crossed lovers do,
Still, there´s a ripple in the waters
that spells their names in the air,
there are stone steps somewhere
that have not forgotten them,
and, in a hidden parallel world
there are two bleeding broken hearts
trying to find each other again.
Some difference
He was all she ever wanted,
she was another one on his list,
he was her North and guide,
she was just a stop on his way,
he was her dear beloved,
she was some accepted supply,
he was her joy and desire,
she was just an object he owned.
And so, he stopped talking to her,
she never stopped asking why.
He just gave elegant excuses,
and all of a sudden she saw it all.
She said ok and so long,
she left without another word.
She never talked to him again,
to this day he is surprised,
she was supposed to plea and beg.
she is out of his life forever,
never to be trodden upon again.
The beginning
It was during golden Carnival,
both veiled by our glittering masks,
while the thick air was scented
with spices, roses and also dust.
It was then we laughed and flirted
under the Venetian lights,
and then the dark waters blessed us,
sealing our bond of love and lust.
Discard
Your warm hello hid the memory
of countless goodbyes,
your charming smile hid the tears
you caused along your cool way,
your beloved carefree manner
hid the sadly shuffled steps
of those you coldly discarded.
and at some odd meeting point
lust and desire crumbled swiftly,
a castle built on shifting sands,
leaving only the pale memory
of a rose-scented love affair,
laced with broken goblets,
cooling ashes in a fireplace,
and a heart bleeding noiselessly.
If you ever…
If you ever remember our story,
just don´t look for me
in any place we shared,
don't try to find me again
in sunlit flowery gardens,
don't hope to see me
in the human tides of avenues.
It is no use looking for me,
I waited for you too long a time,
kept the torches burning
in a temple you had forsaken
and I was left to see crumbling.
Still, there are traces of myself
in the moon lined clouds,
in the dark waters of canals,
in endless nights and stars.
They have all shared my pain,
they have seen tears flowing,
I have become part of them
and dwell in their hidden realm.
Wanderer
Just a wanderer in time,
hiding in shadows,
basking in a dubious sun,
just waiting for Night.
Just a wanderer of old,
trying to find you again
In the portals of youth,
in the rumours of the river,
in the melancholy words
of an old tango in the dark.
Just a wanderer in time,
travelling through lives,
with your scent on my soul
and your dearest memory
as my constant companion.
The river knows of desire,
the portals of hidden loves…
That is why the dark waters
refuse to wash out your name
and the gray stones keep it
carved out under all weathers,
just like I do, unfazed.
Buenos Aires, December 2018.
Long distance flames
He cared for her,
she cared for him.
And in a strange way
they kept apart.
Each busy in his world,
each eager to be free.
They had no time to share,
they had all the time to win.
They saw the world,
they saw life unfolding,
they saw dusks and dawns,
pictures and shadows,
mirrors of their lives,
bridges never crossed.
They said they were fine.
No one knew their pain,
they only shared it
with pillows and stars. .November 24 2017.
“Memories”
When they asked him about her
he only smiled,
No one asked her about him,
she always cried.
If he remembered her,
she was not to know,
he left without telling,
kept his memories of her
under key and lock.
She made of him her muse,
her hero and her god.
She bound him to life,
made him live in every line,
regardless of lands and stars.
He would always be
the One,the Beloved.
She defied Time and Death
keeping him in her writings.
Her love and her longing
bought his immortality. ,November 2017
Drops of rain
Time measured in gardens
after swift showers,
drops of rain falling
along old window panes,
gardens lost in memory
and drops still tracing
the cold warmth of glass.
Hidden paths in gardens,
portals to our lost selves,
mirrors of wonder and despair.
My own heartbeat echoing
the smile on your lips,
my fingertips tracing
the lines of your body,
my own voice calling you
through tide and nights.
I am the garden keeper,
the one with our memories,
the one who,every sunset,
takes care of the lanterns,
the one who feeds time
with stories and rituals,
with tears and scents.
Time measured in drops,
just drops slowly falling,
rain sleeping in shrubs,
nights and tides rising,
our treasure safely hidden
in memories of our garden.
December 2018.
The seven veils
The house with seven mirrors
showing your image untarnished
by time and casual embraces...
The house with the seven gates
leading to the unknown center...
The house with the seven knots
waiting to be unmade patiently...
The house hidden in memories,
unseen from trodden paths,
veiled by moons and many suns...
The house stands in silence,
waiting for you and me to meet,
untie the knots, destroy the ropes,
open the gates and walk together
shedding the seven veils of our fear
to join our mutual flames in its center.
December 2018.
Ennui
Ennui fills up lazy days,
time is its faithful servant,
memory just waters dry plants
in a house of endless corridors.
You and I search for each other
only to lose our battles.
We blend, leave and start again
only to visit our lost garden.
Still, we go on, eager to find
our hunger for each other intact
in spite of years and faces,
in spite of too many tollgates
and steps in semidarkness.
Passengers on a runaway train,
holding each other at times
and letting go abruptly at others
in our keen pursuit of freedom
within the ring of our mutual stars.
You and I belong together
and for that, we can rest tonight
shaping our days and sunsets left
under many clouds and skies.
Buenos Aires, December 2018.
Would you?
Would you still remember me,
would you still think of me,
if only some memory
brushed your days softly?
Would you try to see me
if only my scent reached you?
Would you remember
I loved the way your hair curled,
covering our kisses?
Would we still hold hands
on the table of some dark cafe
and gaze into each other´s eyes
finding there our lost countries?
The answer lies perhaps
in some forgotten diary,
in the lines quickly scribbled
before rushing to strangers
in dungeons and hotel rooms
promising imaginary bliss,
and delivering just dust.
Buenos Aires,January 2019.
Now
And it is only now,
when I remember
your hypnotic eyes
your smile and self,
your words in the air,
your tall body in the dark
It is only now I know
meeting you meant
finding the deliverer
of unattainable love
and reckless pleasures.
Questions
Why would anyone betray
the one who loves dearly?
Why would anyone hate
the one who loves fully?
What is there in passion
that signals danger and loss?
What is there that dies
each time love is reborn?
When is the time for bliss
if not here and now?
When is the time for pain
if not in the turning sands?
Where is home for the nomad
if not in foreign towns?
Where is my secret haven
if not in your strong arms?
Buenos Aires, February 2019.
Love
Love, the one luring us all,
the eternally elusive one,
the prize we covet,
the reward we seek,
the unspoken goal,
the hidden agenda,
the strawberry on the cake.
Love, master, and slave,
dominant and sub,
rope and knots,
links and chain.
Love, dungeon, and cells,
bedrooms and gardens,
portals and bridges,
towers and castles.
Love, masked faces
in the Venetian night,
mantles hiding bodies
lost in multiple climaxes.
Love, the only reason
we live and we die.
Buenos Aires, February 2019
Where are you?
Where are you, beloved
What keeps you away?
Why does only silence
answer my words?
The night soothes me
she knows my secrets,
she knows my pain.
The pale moon guards me,
the sun´s forgotten my face.
Still, the river remembers,
the stones hold our story,
the streets echo our steps,
the city breathes our names!
Buenos Aires, February 2019.
"Lovers"
They parted one day,
under a cold bridge,
she cried that night,
he merely survived.
Oh, yes, they lived to tell,
cried and also laughed,
raised glasses of champagne
towards fading lights.
Under crystal chandeliers,
in mansions well known,
they did everything to forget,
they certainly went on.
After all, it was not such a big deal
that when glasses clank
and lights faded into nothing,
when lovers held them tight,
they heard the other´s name
whispered in the twilight.
February 2019.
Beloved
And it is now, right now,
when my hourglass
threatens me from its place,
when your absence
speaks from the roots of silence,
when only your shadow
visits my nights and bed
that I can grasp at last,
the immensity of the abyss
that used to engulf us
in the blessed madness
of spiralling climaxes.
Buenos Aires, February 2019.
Hidden thorn
It is not your absence,
the main source of pain,
it is not the distance,
that causes despair,
it is not time and choices
that cause disappointment,
but the certainty ,the fact,
you never got to enjoy my body,
the pleasures it could give you,
the shudders that lead inevitably
to climax and oblivion.
For, what is pleasure,
but an exhausted body
and a mind rejoicing
in the joy received and given?
I could not pay you my last homage
and this is the hidden thorn
In the red rose of my passion.
Wolverine
I roam the dark night,
I hide in doorways,
I get lost in darkness
to be reborn in lust.
I roam the dark night,
looking for pleasure,
looking for the one,
I am no woman,
just endless dark nights,
I am no friend, no foe,
a wolverine on the prowl,
with fiery eyes, soft step,
strong body and bare fangs.
Reunion
In a dimly lit chamber,
you wait for me,
wearing a black mask.
You sit and wait calmly,
as you know I will arrive.
I enter and look at you,
time has respected you,
hours have been kind,
life has nourished you
with unexpected tricks,
and odd surprises.
I just enter and feel
my clothes bother us both
I undress before you,
your eyes follow me,
behind the black mask.
waiting for me to get near.
I do so and I feel a jolt,
desire urges me forward,
I extend my trembling hands
and find myself caught
in the iron circle of your arms.
Forgotten woman
The limbs of a forgotten woman
are like hands of a dead clock,
trying to turn and signal the hours
only to find stillness and silence.
Desire flows through her body,
only to find its object gone,
tears of pain and solitary climaxes
course her face erasing hope.
The body of a forgotten woman,
becomes a memory in itself,
a trodden upon, well-known territory,
owing no excuses to a fancy map.
The spirit of a forgotten woman
becomes the one that nurtures her
pushes her forward in cold nights
and teaches her old female secrets
to go on in search of her own sun.
,
.
An affair
An affair hides
the clocks off Time
under its brief encounters,
hides the desperate prayer
for desire to keep flowing..
An affair defies Time and Death
in its mad pursuit of Pleasure,
an affair refuses to become
just dry rose petals between pages
of some old book on a forgotten shelf.
When passion strikes
When passion strikes, brace yourself
for there might be no tomorrows.
When passion strikes, cross yourself
for you might have been cursed.
When passion strikes, take care
because you will forget your fears
and trust your steps as never before,
seek encounters with the forbidden
laughing at the faces of Time and Death.
Master beloved
Oh, master beloved,
how your touch is missed,
how your voice searched
in the sounds lost in memory…
Oh, master beloved,
how your scent is lingering
on my skin you knew so well…
Oh, master beloved,
our distance and silence
are also a game of discipline.
Hers and his
Her dream was to bear
his mark on her skin,
to get to sleep in his arms,
bathed in his maleness
and her own joyful tears.
Her dream was to live
in awe and gratitude
at the renewed miracle
of his mere existence.
His dream was to hold her
till time was no more,
the world was kept at bay,
and they were alone at last
to die and be born again
in the madness of passion.
Just now
Just now I remembered you,
years have not faded your memory,
time has not killed my feelings,
desire flows through muy veins
and my spirit remains indómitable.
You gave me once the gift of lust,
of laughter in the face of time,
of love wrapped in companionship
and that stays in me, untarnished,
just like the scent of your skin
in the long nights of solitude,
in the fading seconds, in the lost hours.
Why?
Why did they meet?
Was it fate or bad karma?
They met to want each other,
they met to hate each other,
they met to run to each other,
they met to dump each other.
Was it fate, just bad karma?
Or perhaps just twisted love,
masked as casual desire,
hidden between soiled sheets,
lost even before it blossomed.
Daze
I slept under an old tree,
when I woke up
the garden was no more.
I slept under a cloud,
when I woke up
the sky was no more.
I slept under the moon,
when I woke up
the night was no more.
Garden, sky and night,
dreams within a dream...
who knows when we are awake,
who knows if we are still asleep...
Beauty
And I saw her and then I knew
everything was right.
The circle closed and opened again
completion and freedom
both surrendered us
Comments (0)