At times like these,
where my cheek touches the sweater that I use as a pillow,
I wonder.
Sometimes
I feel like part of me is not here.
I feel how specifically caresses the pores hidden under the dust on my face, and I close my eyes.
There I am in my father's arms.
It is not a memory, it is a picture, which could see with indifference,
but with a faint sweetness in me.
His hand is on my small and helpless body.
I can see me sleep, and I
open my eyes.
What do you have with these desires?"
I close my eyes. And
I'm holding my mother's face in my hands.
I can feel her disappointment,
her coldness,
her tears falling on my palms.
She does not feel safe, and me in my few years I can only assure her that disappointment will never be greater value.
I open my eyes, the car has moved and air crosses my hair.
Why were you so insecure?"
I close again and.
I'm exhausted, but accompanied.
We are all in a circle, and politics was the subject of discussion.
I was only on the floor and droopy eyes, my friend had told me I could stand on his chest.
And so I did,
cradling my legs and letting my head on his chest.
I can feel his hand on my shoulders.
I can hear the rhythm of his heart, strong against his shirt.
Is this a memory or a punishment?"
I open my eyes,
stunned my tiredness,
the road is long and we have not arrived.
I close my eyes, and I
can remember that body caring embrace with my being away from my pride.
She told me that she felt safe in my arms, and I
just let her sleep on my chest.
I can see her black hair and her eyes closed.
Is this what it feels to be safe?"
I open my eyes, and I
can notice the blue sky.
Clouds play with him,
accumulate, as in my mind.
I close one last time, and
I'm home,
the night embraces me and my bear that keeps me company.
A hand rests on his little body and another falls on the table beside me, just a little,
brushed my fingers off the phone now, and look carefully.
I whisper good night for me,
who listen to me,
and silently for you.
Do you feel safe?
Because I do.
