A thousand kisses said the song and it sounded black to me, absent of color, an emptiness containing love or passion. Absence where movement remains, somehow floating on that emptiness with a sound that makes it belong.
What movement? -you ask. The movement of closeness between two persons, lips sensually connecting with each other, kisses in ephemeral smoke … white … or red. Red with gray swirling into darkness at a larghissimo tempo, almost hypnotizing our senses.
Dark sounds evoking lovers.
A Sensual autumn midnight
lightless and timeless.
_____Adriana Citlali VI-XII-MMXX
Today’s theme is synesthesia. I wrote a haibun poem. The inspiration came from the fact that I started writing when my stereo played “A thousand kisses deep” by Leonard Cohen. Read other poets take on the theme at dVerse — Synesthesia.
A car drive — a long time ago. That feeling of death around me, of tears that do not want to leave my eyes, of emptiness. Numbness, youth, and a highway. A relationship died and I went for a ride. A relationship died because I called it off. I returned the ring, destroyed the dream. The stereo played the CDs that we adored. “Don’t you cry” came next. A tear slid down my cheek, followed by tears showcasing the sadness of hurting him, while hurting me. Don’t cry! — I insisted as if my voice would stop my emotions, my despair. A young love ended and marked our separate destinies. I moved far away — a thousand kilometres north. We did not talk for three years, until that night. The night we both cried. Our paths had changed… He bought a red rose for me. We hugged while our tears blended into a single sorrow. We forgave each other, we forgave ourselves. We kissed good-bye and parted ways. I wished him well, he did the same. That is when I knew it was really over. I smile when I remember the magic of our love and youth. I can almost cry when I remember that part at the end. The passion and the despair. The tenderness, the promise, the impulsiveness, the confusion, the separation, the broken fairy tale. An innocent love that now lives forever, immaculate, as in a dreamlike world in our memories. We do not talk anymore. There is no need — the innocence of the memory remains pristine. We did well. Perhaps the tears taught us something. Perhaps it was our destiny to be happy in each others absence.
Eternal innocence — late
spring memory of a tear
Forgiveness and two paths
Today at dVerse, we are writing classic haibuns about singing along with music while driving. I haven’t been driving for a while, so I played some music (old favourites) and looked into my memory box. I found that first love story, that first closure. A past that makes me smile, a past that makes my heart remember bliss and ache as if they could blend into a single feeling.
Amelia feels stressed and distressed Too tired for productivity
Too late for adventure
Too busy for love
Too early for bed
She looks at the pile of laundry
–reminds her of one hundred unanswered emails Oh, sweet procrastination!
Amelia runs the dishwasher and sweeps the floor
while adding items to a mental list
Amelia remembers the big day with a personal deadline
Unclaimed thoughts disrupt her prioritisation attempt tasks deadlines duties hobbies meetings love notes reports reviews jazz hopes reminders clocks tik tok tik tok tik tok tiK tIK TIK!
Amelia’s heart is up-tempo
–her knees flutter like humming-bird wings
She lies down –right there right then
Desperately
Amelia scrolls her options No time for therapy
No reason to cry
No energy to laugh
No mood for exercise
No peace for yoga
No! NO!
Amelia takes control!
She closes her eyes
takes three deep breaths one two three
paces her heartbeat
relaxes her imagination
Sparkling butterflies spread a breeze of perfume
[ Colorlight ]
Amelia’s face golden-glows under a blissful sun
[ Ocean waves ]
He hugs her tenderly while kissing her lips
It’s ecstasy day at 2am and she dreams stories I want to live
Amelia floats on the liquid of love and calmness
She bathes in daydreams and forgives
invents a story weaving strands of reality and dreams
Amelia experiences passion and an ethereal eternity
Reality will come back
Amelia will meet the deadline
–with a pleasant smile and a fuelled heart
Laundry will be done and emails answered
Amelia rests in the fiction of imaginary realism
Chaos relaxes into ordered fractals
What’s the point of procrastination if love finds you tired?
Amelia contemplated the layers of a day to be thankful.
Joy, she thanked:
Today I thought of you maybe
I longed the idea of you certainly
I missed a smile that once made me believe in eternity
that messy hair and the way we laughed at jokes no one else understood
the intimacy
the transparency we allowed in each others eyes
Today I thought of you maybe
I thanked the idea of you certainly
Amelia’s hands are cold. The clouds are low, the snow is wet.
Depression, she thanked:
Today I longed a memory of you but not the darkness
I missed the stereo not the eggshell carpet
neither the sadness nor the distance
of those slow days when I felt scared
I don’t miss how the brightness in your irides dimmed
or how that foggy shadow covered it all us all
Today I forgive the shadow the fog and your pain
I thank the struggle though I can’t forget
In a world of contrasts, Amelia knows tears as an extension of laughter.
Amelia thanks depression. Amelia thanks joy.
When space is silence... 