Stella

I want to feel that ardent love.

The one that makes you smoke and start smiling like a fool.

To start giggling late at night because he texted me.

To drink my favourite wine and listen to his favourite song.

To get drunk of his voice,

To look in his eyes and feel like I’m getting high,

I want to feel intoxicated by his presence.

I want to be known by his closest friends, by his family,

I want his dog or cat to know my name.

I want to be the reason for his smiles,

To be one he’s talking about to the moon.

I want us to stay late at night listening to music and dance,

Enveloped by smoke and love.

I want his name to be the first things that comes to my mind when someone asks me:

Where’s your home?

I want him to tell me how his day has been,

If he ate, if he drank, if he’s sad, if he’s happy.

I want to have late night face-time calls,

To wonder “Did he fell asleep?”

I want him to become a reason,

A lingering scent, feeling, thought, drug…

I want him to become the main subject of my poems,

   Home,

   It starts as a house,

   Then the house becomes cold, made of marble,

   Then the marble starts to crack,

   Then it cracks,

   Then it disappears.

   You start looking for a home,

   Not a house,

   But a safe space,

   A person,

   A group of people that becomes the HOME.

   And then it starts getting warmer,

   The marble is gone, but now a sprout grows,

   It’s growing higher and higher,