I am tired just

to be heard as words,
These nostalgic mushrooms,
Are real,
The thorns left in my heart,
are real,
I can’t show my human pain,
There is no word
Invented to express
What your love does to my heart.

So I write about my origin,
The ancient woman
Behind the space,
Her lines, her breasts,
The softness of her skin
The sadness of her smile,
Her half soul, half flesh
Half knowing, half wanting
And her passionate wholeness,;
To promise
to pursue
wanting you
in everything,
in everyone.

It is your wind that blows me
back to embrace life
And yet I never see
you more than a glance,
Never feel you
more than a touch,
I am thirsty,
I want to kiss your dark shadows
Coast to coast,
Invite your warm weight
Back again on top of my being,
Release dust, water and stars,
Inside my wanting,
Open a passage of light
Drop after a drop,
Merge in me,
Die in me
Loving me,
Till nothing

be left from me.

Serena Devi

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