Desejo, desire -- Mag 172

As she unlocked the door,

a thousand black stars fell from her heart.

She couldn't

but she did.

Behind stained glasses,

he looked at her,

thinking less than he could.

Nothing would ever be said

about that day

and it would burn his sibilant heart

for the rest of his life.

She left as if she had never been there.

He stayed for some minutes,

gazing at the memories

that were already beginning to sprout without

his poetic license.

He thought about a word in English

to express what he was feeling.

Why was he thinking in Portuguese?

Words racing his mind.

Things he couldn't tame,

he would never tame.

A confusion under his skin.

Desejo, desire.

Sometimes he looks back,

and she is still there

 weightless,

faceless,

wordless,

absolute.

Karla Bardanza

Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2013