you are the one
to whom i offer
the ultimate power
and the absolute satisfaction
to reflect my ego
sunset
dust all over
my breath fogging the window
-meaning your eyes-
what i see there,
a blurred nasty figure
taking off my lace underwear
cleaning up the cornea
carefully:
no streaks left,
observing my figure in the dark
-meaning your thoughts-
as a part of the external frame
making my self critique
totally committed to my awareness
that,
this game is
exclusively mine
but, awaits to be revealed
-meaning spoken-
you, so broken and discouraged
i don’t even dare
to stand in front of you as the real me
staying hidden
trying to convince my deeper lust
that you are just another
straight white line
-meaning my stuff hidden in my
silver purse-
when you are a curve
the most scaring/scared curve at the same time
with this yellow colour of
despair and desperation
which i admit i wanna lick
but i respect you more
than i want to seduce you
dragging you in my existential trap
feeding you my chemistry
fully decided for what i am,
a jell of acceptance and care
to soften your skin,
relaxing your muscles,
washing away your messed-up thoughts
combined with
the affection of the hot water
on your most private moments
during shower, before sleep
-meaning probably,
death.
