Last erotic encounter
True to yourself
you must be careful and admit it,
fully aware of your own insignificance.
You must suppress, without a wagging finger,
that temptation with the unsayable,
lurking like a hidden spider
next to its web in the emptiness
that surrounds the sunny sphere
from the abyss of darkness.
Try briefly closing your eyes
from reality and open them again
in the land of dreams.
Still in bed and within the tentacles
of a last erotic encounter
you hear the clutter of cups,
the laying out for breakfast.
Still naked between the silken sheets
you feel the arousal of a last embrace,
the kiss of a long lost lover
languishing on your lips..
as if this dimension were the true one,
not the other calling to feed your body.
A feeling of ambiguity to be precise;
the voice in the background,
knocking at your door reminds you
the time and rips you out of emotions
to fling yourself out of bed
in an attempt determined to not allow
this other reality anymore.
The truth is that the voice calling for breakfast
is the true master of the situation
and with some gesture of gratitude
you sit down at the breakfast table
praising the good variety of jams,
the crisp and buttery croissants,
the excellent cups of coffee.
And in an unheard cry of anguish
you beg for forgiveness.