Only emptiness is left...a longing for closeness, for the touch of bodies that, despite the influence of gravity, could not penetrate each other, could not become one.
There is only an echo, an echo of memories...of those crazy nights, a subtle shining moon that opened its eyes at the sight of drunk Romeo and wild Juliet--a version from under the bridge.
They were not allowed to die together of love. Someone wrote a new script, a new version of the film in which the characters played themselves--so called sketches of the past.
Romeo is dancing tango with the chosen one of his life--a bottle of brandy. Julia experienced her first death, she buried her feelings. It wasn't she who became dead. Others became dead to her...Dead to make her able to love again, to fill her interior with pleasure, with desire for closeness. She became like his sperm--she exploded with a lust for love for a second, and then she returned to her previous form--a self-sufficient haven.
I think the art fell in love with her. It was the art who opened its mouth one night and whispered words to Julia--"I will be your lover, I will caress your inside and through your visible moans you will let the world know that you feel fulfilled."
A tree without feathers...stands naked, all exposed.
It's watching my window. Maybe it thinks it would be nice to be in my room, warm its nakedness under a warm duvet. I am sure it would appreciate four corners. What about the yellow walls?
The sun would speak to the tree through them. The tree would admire with pride two artificial butterflies. It would say--"They dared to fly to the sun."
Maybe it would do a little redecorating...
Right in the middle of my room it would set its root.
It wouldn't need a window anymore.
It would remind it about naked days, days when everyone passed it with indifference, even the one who opened the curtains from night every morning to make her room a light for a moment...
"The darkness of your eyes awakened me from my sleep. I say, with hand on my heart, that in the whole spectacle they play the main role.
The thunder sounded in my heart!
Lightning, however, has its beginning in your pupils.
Your repugnance will not last forever.
There's something about you stranger..."
They f--- every night.