Love sometimes reminds of a toast :
you're waiting for it, already feeling the rush of a smell entering your nose and rushing through your whole body, knowing anytime might be the right time, tapping your fingers impatiently on the table until it comes to your eyes as the greatest gift nature could make, a scent turned into a flavour, a flavour travelling on your taste buds in a glimpse, overwhelming you as you close your eyes and make the world disappear, and all that is left is you and this scent, you and this taste, you and this texture, you and this warmth ; and when you realise you ate it all, glazing sadly over the table, you're left with this lingering smell, the one of a pleasing experience but also of regret, of a past you want to be present, of wanting all of this to be back... And it's always hard, so hard to clean the crumbs, as they always go in the most unusual places, in the darkest corners, in the folds of your clothes, in your pockets, and you feel like it will take a life to get rid of them...
YOU ARE READING
Petals of Dusk
PoetryHere are poems I collected for you, as a lousy bouquet of words, of tears and smiles, of thoughts and feelings, of yearning and resentment - I don't know if they will reach you, yet I feel like my heart and soul needed to be poured on those pieces o...
