my heart bleeds yet there’s none the presence of wound… it pins it pricks, a kind of pain that lynch even the thinnest fibrous layer of my flesh… it is the silent cry, the tearless droppings of my imagined love -that one day i may lean on your shoulder as you gently sieve my long tresses.
decades ago, the glow of that crescent moon hiding behind those giant palm leaves, as if in conspiracy with our sweet nothings, ahhhhhhhhh… your hefty arms pillow my face, where i lay flat on the beach sands carefree of nothing, lends the vague silhouette that perhaps an artist would have certainly loved to have painted.
how darling… cómo, cómo puedo olvidar, when every time i get to glimpse at the moon, i see your face, those deep-set pair of eyes, under the shady bushy brows, giving such stares that make me quiver, grasp something that resembles the touch and warmth of your existence-.
my mind my thoughts glimmer beyond good and evil, beyond reasons, beyond inescapable mania… to have that satiated banalities combust, fire on a nuclear explosions… but you are gone, a no vienen más… you have found your other world of existence, a destination of immortality…
would i have one like you, once more?__ or shall i be content on the whispers of murmuring breeze and the iridescence reflection created by the lake teasing waves as the speed boat that carries me whizzes through its expands.
i am but a trapped firefly waiting for my first escape from my immeasurable pain… i have come to get used to and enjoy… the memories of being enamoured… memories of intoxicating exegete, i waltz around, attempting to forget in my desire to find that missing lustres. _Maelan Koia Sydney
sunday 1:11pm 16 july 2017 sydney nsw australia