Poetry

(You) 
Sublime and calm, 
pecking and cooing 
at the unseen side of my brain. 
A breathless hug pinning my body to the floor 
asking me to come hard and let go this time; 
sometimes it´s on the floor 
sometimes it´s on the bed 
sometimes it´s in a book of poetry. 
  
I hope and dread     but secretly wait 
for you to tickle me with your soft syllables 
  
to pull down my arms 
and massage my lungs 
until they fall on top 
of my broken heart. 
  
But 
you 
do 
nothing 
When you finish, 
you just dance around in the air 
hanging from a thread 
with your damascus sword. 
Blow me kisses on your tip toes 
  
and say: 
"It´s not time for that yet" 
  
I almost walked away yesterday, 
couldn´t quite cross the bridge! 
Maybe I will today, 
  
                     I hope.