Poesia (20.9)

Reaching My Guts

He stood up

So I could be helped;

Younger in life,

Sharp minded,

Hilarious

Summer boyish.

A chair

He moved

In order to reach

The missing piece

Of loose fabric.

The fear of falling

Came crossing

Both our minds.

Instinct.

Life made me an animal

After a while.

My left arm tenderly

Pressed

Against his belly,

Holding him

From a messy

Disastrous

Fall.

His breath.

Breathing rapidly

Into my face

Surrounded by

Frightening doubts,

Green lighting,

Eyes crossing fast,

Forced laughter…

And a body

Made of sin,

A mind made of depth,

And eyes that, even though

Met mine

Fewer times

Than I expected,

Expressed to me

What my mind

Had sinned a long way back.

Poesia (20.8)

O Leão no Amanhecer

No teu peito largo

Deitar meu cansaço,

Nos teus braços longos

Enterrar minhas lágrimas,

Nos teus pés firmes

Apoiar minhas dúvidas.

Poesia (20.7)

Shore

To start anew,

To rest my restless and only

Heart;

Wasted old friend

Who shouts her deception

Against my attentive mind.

My heart,

Who by herself,

Held my reckless shoulders,

Stubborn pieces of bone

That insisted on carrying

The weight of my sand castle.

To find shore,

To wash my face with shinny sand,

To wet my lips with salty water,

And to find home

By leaving this cold womb;

Never felt home here.

Never will.

That bosom was never mine

To rest onto.

To fight over my green immature blood

Over my space.

To rest.

To lay back.

To breathe the fresh air

That was cried for me

By someone else’s lungs.

To feed my soul

From the fishery

Of the tenderness of a complete stranger

That shall guard

My feminine

And lonesome

Heart.

To find shore.

To find shore in me.

To find shore within my bare hands.

To find shore regardless of myself.

To find shore on my closed eyed resemblance of my womb.

To disappear into myself for once

And not feel guilty about

My own pain.