Between two ashen feelings
you were whispering to me
about the rhythm of our fingers
less than perfect
like the symphony of waves
gently touching
your ankles
an illusion of the never-ending nights
frozen in time
like incomplete gestures
offerings to the gods of Fire
thousand sparks
reflected
in the magic mirror
of your eyes

Someone has given me the random feeling of the flame
combusted brightly
at the crossing between night
and ever after
searching for a known color
in different hemispheres
or maybe it was just
another definition
for reality.

The only thing left
was silence
and close to me I could hear
the laboured breathing of the darkness inside
while the sky was falling
still repeating the same words
habitually
re-inventing the horizon
vertically suspended
ignoring the gravity
of an alternate tomorrow
trying in vain to erase
the memory of us
from a different yesterday.