florindigo

Sunday morning

I let my lover sleep.

My distant lover.

He knows how difficult it is for me to slip out of the silky sheets, how it is to distance myself from his radiant heat, not knowing what tomorrow will bring. Like wandering through time, at the mercy of fortune. The wait...I try hard to ignore. As it slowly devours me...

I seek shelter in the small abundances of the day. On the faces of the others, on the flight path of seagulls, on the bitter coffee to which the palate has become accustomed.

Just the Wind to ease the dazzle on my skin. It's the Wind that caresses me when he doesn't. It's the Wind who wipes away the tear and brings me lucidity. He's the one who unties my hair, like bad thoughts.

What I am I owe to the Wind.

But it saddens me that He separates me from my lover. It saddens me that He makes me see what I don't want. That, from one moment to the next, makes me go in another direction. I owe what I am to the Wind.

This is Albie