my poem no. 19

You gave me this pencil in December

Now I'll stick it into my arm, pulling the blood smelling of you

until I'm drenched dry

Follow the red blotches – Fra Angelico's painting

I met Him again. This time he has cat-like eyes and messy hair

And I want to think I knew it was Him from the very first moment

We used to sit on a train bridge

desire overflowing us from the organic subconsciousness of the city

The myth about star-crossed lovers

Only in our case the stars were lined perfectly

Still everything we saw had already passed in a blur

We peered through a cracked surface into time that hasn't ever existed

We thought we still managed to steel some of it

and in my head I lived thirty eight lives with him on this borrowed currency

Heat of blood rushing to cheeks

Eventually it caught up with me

After three months my thighs aged for 3879 days

Pleasure, pain, blindness, numbness

Sweet thrusts

Cracks. In the mattress

How many times

will I have to dig my painted nails into palm's skin

in an animal instinct

Self-restrain

Self-harm

Seeing red

Before the wall I built so carefully tumbles down again

How many times

will I be able to keep the shadows at bay before...

And you'll freak out

And you'll run to the girl made to be loved

I'll paint you the picture

It has a dark red background with wildly yellow stars

The foreground consists of vague shapes of gray, some of church-like silhouettes, some more like crawling bodies

Single light line across the composition

You are a picture too, my dear

A mirror reflection

Spot of sun made on wall by one's watch or knife

How could I catch you?

You always came after I stopped expecting you, not before I gave up on hope of seeing you

You are my future indeed

Too bad future doesn't exist

The presence, always pregnant with it, never delivers

There's too much blood and pain in giving new life, she thinks

We gravitated to life we never could have achieved

The eternal bliss and sadness of unreachable

And I realize now I couldn't have it any other way

because my heart is too much alive

just like yours is

Every night I cocooned myself in the time gap we inhabited and in the sounds of our love-making

I fell asleep

Misplaced cravings

Spilled wine

Assumptions and whispers

accompanied me everywhere I went

I laid in their bed legs spread open, pink, not caring if it was wrong

I built a seedbed of phantasm around us

around you – my blackest, most concentrated spot in mind materialized

River under the bridge was deep, cold and unwelcoming

and I didn't realize first my soul was dead

leaving only instinct, body, feelings and strange light

The train bridge was the only witness of truth

Nobody else knew what was right anymore amongst the spots of Time

And yet once “the right” was all that mattered

At the end it all comes down to the light, shadows and flow

Only thing left is the moment your hands caged my waist right under my ribs

Because knowledge isn't here to understand but for decisions

I decided

to follow your cat-like eyes

And did so until there was anything of me left

Now follow my blood