I remember when I used to wake up at 4 am, barely opening my eyes, in that gloom where a green light flew from the balcony to trace faded shadows on the accommodation.
Trying to recognize every ray of light leaking curiously while my pupils got smaller, struggling with the heavy ascendency of sleep, I saw your undimmed skin next to me, a smooth surface. The curvature of your back seemed so close than any object I have ever seen. Too close that I was afraid.
I lived my whole life scared of darkness. But at that moment, I was afraid because I couldn't realize that I felt safe. My heartbeats were getting calmed slowly by the time that I couldn't feel flowing.
I got closer to you, so close that I could see every pore, every hair... I smelled the pain out of them as if I smelled the pain of my life. Your smell carried away the scent of the ocean, the waves crashing on rocks, the green tissue of algae and salt. Your sound had its sound. Your breathing had the humming of fresh mornings.
I touched your back so gently, so lightly so I wouldn't disturb the clarity of the ocean. And with every touch, in the greenness, I prayed that you would never be away, that that fresh air would carry me forever and the light to surround us.
There was no god above us.
YOU ARE READING
Taste Of Anger
PoetryI choose anger instead of sorrow I prefer madness over sadness I never want to be a victim. cover © : SIILDA
