Something is riveted
over the bed.
More than a heaven,
less accessory.
A full bloomed yes
reducing the world
to a handful of dust.
A closer moon, lit
by our helpless addiction
to each other
and where curiously,
everything pauses,
as a proof of life.

Sealed from all events,
our love making
announced the coming
of a terrible stillness.
And it came.
Now the air is so still
that the clock halted.
Its ticking is wrapped
in clear cellophane.
That thin film has settled
over everything.
The light stopped trembling
and my pulse got darker
as ink.

Once that timeless zone,
that weightless form,
was nothing
but a flash of ecstasy.
We kept falling in and out of it,
as one.
But I can’t get back.
I lie half-way
in less predatory hands.

You ask about the music.
My body is a silent box.

That same body,
once a butterfly,
followed you
like the rhythm of an aria.

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