mornings

one of these
mornings
deprived
and void
holding the veil of the night
down on my eyelids
completely stripped
body curled up
in the empty room

he
pulls me by the hair
up
putting the masks
of the cheerful parent
and the lean young
professional
kicking me out
in the wilderness
of this modern life

just as the planets
spreading wide
between the sun
the degree of abandonment
I have only him
to weave strength
in this body
and to push me there
where only
longings await

* * *

one of these
mornings
the lovers sleep
in peace and sweet oblivion
inhaling
puffs of hope
and air of light
filling out the room
with your eyes
on butterfly wings

you
tightly glued your catlike body
to my back
sliding your palm
between my skin
and the fabric of my briefs
and while my libido
pulsates in your hand
the desire to weave into each other
wakes us up with no resistance

the Aries in us
impatiently
kindles the flames
playful as a child
and the air in me
heating up the room
fill it with the steam of us
my sweat
your sweat
and something beyond


(to Veronica - who had the courage to request a second word,
…because mornings seemed to feel more beautiful)