What if I want a kiss?

I would write a poem, but the dust in my keyboard just told me to look at the blank page. «Give the soil the water it deserves», said letter B. These sand flakes arrive unexpected, similar as when I met you during those hot August days. Now I’m here, about to write how much I wish to kiss you, not inside our secret rooms, but outside where people push, kill, cry and laugh. Last night, I wandered in a warm what if and I smiled. I imagined my snaked fingers, drawing on the tip of your sea stones: so bright, hard and yet, so small. I praised death, and blew the candles of the Bible pages to die between the grace of your lips, to be crushed by them. I begged for a rock to land on my head and make me eat the dust of the Q W E R T Y…

Then the question comes back, what if I kissed you? There, where the Gods kneel upon destiny. It wouldn’t be a safe place, but you whispered enough protection. «We’ve battled greater wars», said your eyes to mine. My Hydriaic tongue was cut again and again. No amount of words were enough. Being crushed by your lips is now a blessing. During cold nights I remember your warmth, typing to remove the sand out of these letters. I want you, but the statues you created will not move. A desert of your perpetual gaze, I run and find an arm of stone. I desire the day in which I find your lips over the dust. Maybe a flower will grow, or a tear might fall from the heavens… maybe you’ll stay forever, if I kiss you.

PD: First Blogtober post in English

Publicado por

Oscar Mares

Estudiante de literaturas hispánicas en la Universidad de Sonora. A ratos es maestro de inglés. Fan de Instagram y a la búsqueda constante de su verdadero yo.

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