Coeur Noir

Every forthcoming love is doomed to be better.

We are walking in the night. She isn't in a hurry.

She smells like Jasmine.

We are listening to music coming out from an opened window. She stands and lets her things fall on the pavement. She leans on me, offering me her hand. She wants to live in the night. She wants to dance. She embraces me. I feel her breath on my neck. She writhes. She feels it. Falling in love is nothing but an initiation.

My palm crawls on hers. My body enfolds hers. Her leg cuddles me as it slides on me. She 's so innocent. Each one of them are going to be that. I slip my hand at her waist.

Love is an altar; our very own altar.

It's ourselves that we keep on worshiping, the very best of what we posses. Our partner is just an excuse; a so-called necessity. We get improved every single time.

Each forthcoming love is doomed to be better than the previous one.

Lust; me invading you. You are spinning.

Her eyes sparkle in the dark. She remembers; all that she has been before she was born. She suffers, My hands move on her body. There are moments that I think that I am detached from sanity when I think of our despair to hold on to what's not there.

I gripe her body and then I throw her on the pavement.

Stand up. 

Obey. 

Self-luminous or not; the illusion of a choice.

I will claim them all and you are going to surrender them to me. You can't resist. No one can.

She touches my knee. She stands up with my caress on her face.

If there was love I might could love her. We dance. She doesn't ask for love. She wants to touch, to witness, to believe. We agreed on this together, even before we were born. We conspired that we would meet at this place, that we would dance in the night. She is thirsty. She hungers for herself but she doesn't know it. She demands whatever she is; completely free from everything that she's been taught.

She wants to use me. I do the same. Our only difference is that I am aware of that; furthermore I am capable of admitting it; My original sin. She is an unrepentant soul, innocence's alibi. Each time I learn all over again, as if it was the first time.

The music stops. She looks for her bag and her white cane. She is afraid as she 's turning her face towards me. She seeks for freedom. I make a turn. "Come" she whispers. I stand still

"Come". None and nothing comes unless you invite them. Anything else that crosses your way, you are simply incapable of recognizing it; it vanishes. Nevertheless everything comes with a price. You are... your price; and you will offer that to me in return for something that you have no idea of what it really is, nobody has every talked about. I am not going to speak with you either. I am just going to let you see and then I shall perish. Then you will decide whether you will become or you will freeze yourself for ever because then you will know, you will recall. Life is death and death becomes life.

I follow her. We arrive at her house. She unlocks the door. She puts her bag on an armchair. She takes of her coat. She picks up some music and opens the door to her balcony. I climb the inox. Everything is moments; Time's detonation. A "bang" that requires so many things so that it could take place. We think we know how to aim. We keep training ourselves; nothing but fireworks. Your time hasn't come yet my love. No.

She burst into heartbreaking laughter; me breathing her. It's her birth, her first shock. We are floating in warmth, we swim, we are not hungry. Out of a sudden something pushes us, pulls us out, we are suffocated; we are dying facing the Light. It's so irritating. We are hearing voices. We die running out of time; tick, tack, tick... Make up your mind. Now.