A Moment of Weakness …

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”
― Pablo Neruda

 * * * * *

To J.

`

I need to feel that you are real,
you exist.
I want to face your mahogany eyes,
slow agony.
I desire to see you undress me,
to see me glow.
Breaths past trembling,
turning kisses into shadowless sounds.
I demand to know that
you can pull me in close.
I wish I could be able
to run to you.
I crave to shiver
listening to your heart.
And chase the wrinkles
in your smile,
even if it’s wrong,
I want skies in flamingo flames.

And that’s how it will be.
The nights filled
with waves,
passion and more waves,
will glitter together
with the falling on the marble
shirt buttons.
And the ghosts that
create time and distance,
they will asphyxiate
in the lonely blood of
their dark minds,
and I will run into you,
with eyes, hazel- like,
from the candle lights,
with summer on my skin,
with iridescent lips,
with fierce,
drunk with stars love,
to cover us both.

… only in my deep sleep.

`

© 2013  Broken Sparkles

`

Dust of broken sparkles

“I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest.

I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty.”Pablo Neruda

* * * * *

Dust of broken sparkles

Strange silence drips over the fields with love
and as soon as I see how time curls
around scented flesh and sweaty curves,
bruised lips and skin let out fires
over ice cubs and jasmine oiled hands.
As soon as I become one with the whiteness
of the walls turning crimson, satin and mirrors speak
the language of silver fleur de-lys and ripe grapes.
You, the wind that makes the sunset glow,
and I, the first flower of the sunrise,
how can I keep you, how can you own me?
While we move under the music of illusions
and swear in the life of leftover senses,
the dust of broken sparkles sweeps the night.

`

“Bodies and dust” by Anton Surkov

`

© 2012  Broken Sparkles

`

Journey on the road ahead

Journey on the road ahead

Behind the curtains of immortality
angels cry for the time gone,
for the moments left in albums alone.

I wear bruises looking back at mornings
with electric lilac and summer snow, agonizing
over lost triumph and lust, burning moonstones.

Living alone in legends of whispers,
sealing the shadows of serpents in envelopes,
a vow to the bright sun is silently dedicated.

The imperfection of yesterday I will ignore
to immerse into the light of secret mist,
as long as I have a journey on the road ahead

`

“The road ahead” by Blaga Todorova

`

© 2012  Broken Sparkles

`