Matza di Lourde

 This old lady

Called longing

The days of milk and honey

That I lived with you disappeared

in a scabrous forge!

In the contaminated weather

of others, 

I was left in my pocket

of the ragged garments

that today cover me

bitter lucidity,

Anti hypocrisy and gall

I'm now the spine

The undone brochure

from the old book,

a four of cups, 

Not very faithful image

an old agenda, 

Missing poetry texts

In the prose that we once were

still in rumination mode,

Two sad characters live

in an eternal strife

In a demented duality

on a sword at the ready,

Between remembering love

and be complacent

with the current lie!

You are eternal past

and you are still present,

that, after me,

of the worn-out words, 

if it will turn to dust and ashes,

What I feel and what I pour

From what I think,

tyrosine

on which I lean my breath,

grains of the same millstone

Separated in one life

where reciprocity

It's vocabulary and stubbornness

only mine! only mine!

Add a text message to it 

away and others

of apathy

I lean back on the old mimosa

I close my eyes to the now!

I care about everything else

if after you,

madness reigned, malignity,

the lack of joy, 

and even the flight of birds and 

of butterflies, 

does not achieve freedom

And the bursting

of leaves and wild cats

They don't solve it

The desire

and not even the longing,

And I'm left with anxiety

to see your eyes,

the mouth, 

To smell you

Oh all of you

Every man

of being in me always young