Slight touch by E. A. (free novels TXT) 📕

in their fiery hearts,

the greyish river remembers

to keep our scent in its waters

We somehow will always live

in the travelling breeze of Time,

In the old decayed doorways

where we kissed defying Fate

and every treasured second

will shine softly for all lovers

even in the darkest of nights.

 

Secret

No one knew about their story,

no one knew when it started,

no one knew it would live,

branded in their souls forever.

No one knew anything about it,

they just kept their secret safe.

Only the river and the old bridge

were their trusted friends.

Their ways parted one day,

as those of star crossed lovers do,

Still, there´s a ripple in the waters

that spells their names in the air,

there are stone steps somewhere

that have not forgotten them,

and, in a hidden parallel world

there are two bleeding broken hearts

trying to find each other again.

 

 

Some difference

He was all she ever wanted,

she was another one on his list,

he was her North and guide,

she was just a stop on his way,

he was her dear beloved,

she was some accepted supply,

he was her joy and desire,

she was just an object he owned.

And so, he stopped talking to her,

she never stopped asking why.

He just gave elegant excuses,

and all of a sudden she saw it all.

She said ok and so long,

she left without another word.

She never talked to him again,

to this day he is surprised,

she was supposed to plea and beg.

she is out of his life forever,

never to be trodden upon again.

 

The beginning

It was during golden Carnival,

both veiled by our glittering masks,

while the thick air was scented

with spices, roses and also dust.

It was then we laughed and flirted

under the Venetian lights,

and then the dark waters blessed us,

sealing our bond of love and lust.

 

Discard

Your warm hello hid the memory

of countless goodbyes,

your charming smile hid the tears

you caused along your cool way,

your beloved carefree manner

hid the sadly shuffled steps

of those you coldly discarded.

and at some odd meeting point

lust and desire crumbled swiftly,

a castle built on shifting sands,

leaving only the pale memory

of a rose-scented love affair,

laced with broken goblets,

cooling ashes in a fireplace,

and a heart bleeding noiselessly.

 

If you ever…

If you ever remember our story,

just don´t look for me

in any place we shared,

don't try to find me again

in sunlit flowery gardens,

don't hope to see me

in the human tides of avenues.

It is no use looking for me,

I waited for you too long a time,

kept the torches burning

in a temple you had forsaken

and I was left to see crumbling.

Still, there are traces of myself

in the moon lined clouds,

in the dark waters of canals,

in endless nights and stars.

They have all shared my pain,

they have seen tears flowing,

I have become part of them

and dwell in their hidden realm.

 

Wanderer

Just a wanderer in time,

hiding in shadows,

basking in a dubious sun,

just waiting for Night.

Just a wanderer of old,

trying to find you again

In the portals of youth,

in the rumours of the river,

in the melancholy words

of an old tango in the dark.

Just a wanderer in time,

travelling through lives,

with your scent on my soul

and your dearest memory

as my constant companion.

The river knows of desire,

the portals of hidden loves…

That is why the dark waters

refuse to wash out your name

and the gray stones keep it

carved out under all weathers,

just like I do, unfazed.

 

Buenos Aires, December 2018.

Long distance flames

He cared for her,

she cared for him.

And in a strange way

they kept apart.

Each busy in his world,

each eager to be free.

They had no time to share,

they had all the time to win.

They saw the world,

they saw life unfolding,

they saw dusks and dawns,

pictures and shadows,

mirrors of their lives,

bridges never crossed.

They said they were fine.

No one knew their pain,

they only shared it

with pillows and stars. .November 24 2017.

 

 

“Memories”

 

When they asked him about her

he only smiled,

No one asked her about him,

she always cried.

If he remembered her,

she was not to know,

he left without telling,

kept his memories of her

under key and lock.

She made of him her muse,

her hero and her god.

She bound him to life,

made him live in every line,

regardless of lands and stars.

He would always be

the One,the Beloved.

She defied Time and Death

keeping him in her writings.

Her love and her longing

bought his immortality. ,November 2017

 

Drops of rain

Time measured in gardens

after swift showers,

drops of rain falling

along old window panes,

gardens lost in memory

and drops still tracing

the cold warmth of glass.

Hidden paths in gardens,

portals to our lost selves,

mirrors of wonder and despair.

My own heartbeat echoing

the smile on your lips,

my fingertips tracing

the lines of your body,

my own voice calling you

through tide and nights.

I am the garden keeper,

the one with our memories,

the one who,every sunset,

takes care of the lanterns,

the one who feeds time

with stories and rituals,

with tears and scents.

Time measured in drops,

just drops slowly falling,

rain sleeping in shrubs,

nights and tides rising,

our treasure safely hidden

in memories of our garden.

December 2018.

 

The seven veils

The house with seven mirrors

showing your image untarnished

by time and casual embraces...

The house with the seven gates

leading to the unknown center...

The house with the seven knots

waiting to be unmade patiently...

The house hidden in memories,

unseen from trodden paths,

veiled by moons and many suns...

The house stands in silence,

waiting for you and me to meet,

untie the knots, destroy the ropes,

open the gates and walk together

shedding the seven veils of our fear

to join our mutual flames in its center.

December 2018.

 

Ennui

Ennui fills up lazy days,

time is its faithful servant,

memory just waters dry plants

in a house of endless corridors.

You and I search for each other

only to lose our battles.

We blend, leave and start again

only to visit our lost garden.

Still, we go on, eager to find

our hunger for each other intact

in spite of years and faces,

in spite of too many tollgates

and steps in semidarkness.

Passengers on a runaway train,

holding each other at times

and letting go abruptly at others

in our keen pursuit of freedom

within the ring of our mutual stars.

You and I belong together

and for that, we can rest tonight

shaping our days and sunsets left

under many clouds and skies.

 

Buenos Aires, December 2018.

Would you?

Would you still remember me,

would you still think of me,

if only some memory

brushed your days softly?

Would you try to see me

if only my scent reached you?

Would you remember

I loved the way your hair curled,

covering our kisses?

Would we still hold hands

on the table of some dark cafe

and gaze into each other´s eyes

finding there our lost countries?

The answer lies perhaps

in some forgotten diary,

in the lines quickly scribbled

before rushing to strangers

in dungeons and hotel rooms

promising imaginary bliss,

and delivering just dust.

Buenos Aires,January 2019.

 

Now

And it is only now,

when I remember

your hypnotic eyes

your smile and self,

your words in the air,

your tall body in the dark

It is only now I know

meeting you meant

finding the deliverer

of unattainable love

and reckless pleasures.

 

Questions

Why would anyone betray

the one who loves dearly?

Why would anyone hate

the one who loves fully?

What is there in passion

that signals danger and loss?

What is there that dies

each time love is reborn?

When is the time for bliss

if not here and now?

When is the time for pain

if not in the turning sands?

Where is home for the nomad

if not in foreign towns?

Where is my secret haven

if not in your strong arms?

Buenos Aires, February 2019.

 

Love

 

Love, the one luring us all,

the eternally elusive one,

the prize we covet,

the reward we seek,

the unspoken goal,

the hidden agenda,

the strawberry on the cake.

Love, master, and slave,

dominant and sub,

rope and knots,

links and chain.

Love, dungeon, and cells,

bedrooms and gardens,

portals and bridges,

towers and castles.

Love, masked faces

in the Venetian night,

mantles hiding bodies

lost in multiple climaxes.

Love, the only reason

we live and we die.

 

Buenos Aires, February 2019

 

 

Where are you?

 

Where are you, beloved

What keeps you away?

Why does only silence

answer my words?

The night soothes me

she knows my secrets,

she knows my pain.

The pale moon guards me,

the sun´s forgotten my face.

Still, the river remembers,

the stones hold our story,

the streets echo our steps,

the city breathes our names!

 

Buenos Aires, February 2019.

"Lovers"

They parted one day,

under a cold bridge,

she cried that night,

he merely survived.

Oh, yes, they lived to tell,

cried and also laughed,

raised glasses of champagne

towards fading lights.

Under crystal chandeliers,

in mansions well known,

they did everything to forget,

they certainly went on.

After all, it was not such a big deal

that when glasses clank

and lights faded into nothing,

when lovers held them tight,

they heard the other´s name

whispered in the twilight.

 

 

February 2019.

 

 

 

Beloved

And it is now, right now,

when my hourglass

threatens me from its place,

when your absence

speaks from the roots of silence,

when only your shadow

visits my nights and bed

that I can grasp at last,

the immensity of the abyss

that used to engulf us

in the blessed madness

of spiralling climaxes.

 

Buenos Aires, February 2019.

 

Hidden thorn

It is not your absence,

the main source of pain,

it is not the distance,

that causes despair,

it is not time and choices

that cause disappointment,

but the certainty ,the fact,

you never got to enjoy my body,

the pleasures it could give you,

the shudders that lead inevitably

to climax and oblivion.

For, what is pleasure,

but an exhausted body

and a mind rejoicing

in the joy received and given?

I could not pay you my last homage

and this is the hidden thorn

In the red rose of my passion.

 

 

Wolverine

I roam the dark night,

I hide in doorways,

I get lost in darkness

to be reborn in lust.

I roam the dark night,

looking for pleasure,

looking for the one,

I am no woman,

just endless dark nights,

I am no friend, no foe,

a wolverine on the prowl,

with fiery eyes, soft step,

strong body and bare fangs.

 

Reunion

In a dimly lit chamber,

you wait for me,

wearing a black mask.

You sit and wait calmly,

as you know I will arrive.

I enter and look at you,

time has respected you,

hours have been kind,

life has nourished you

with unexpected tricks,

and odd surprises.

I just enter and feel

my clothes bother us both

I undress before you,

your eyes follow me,

behind the black mask.

waiting for me to get near.

I do so and I feel a jolt,

desire urges me forward,

I extend my trembling hands

and find myself caught

in the iron circle of your arms.

 

Forgotten woman

The limbs of a forgotten woman

are like hands of a dead clock,

trying to turn and signal the hours

only to find stillness and silence.

Desire flows through her body,

only to find its object gone,

tears of pain and solitary climaxes

course her face erasing hope.

The body of a forgotten woman,

becomes a memory in itself,

a trodden upon, well-known territory,

owing no excuses to a fancy map.

The spirit of a forgotten woman

becomes the one that nurtures her

pushes her forward in cold nights

and teaches her old female secrets

to go on in search of her own sun.

 

,

 

 

.

An affair

An affair hides

the clocks off Time

under its brief encounters,

hides the desperate prayer

for desire to keep flowing..

An affair defies Time and Death

in its mad pursuit of Pleasure,

an affair refuses to become

just dry rose petals between pages

of some old book on a forgotten shelf.

 

When passion strikes

When passion strikes, brace yourself

for there might be no tomorrows.

When passion strikes, cross yourself

for you might have been cursed.

When passion strikes, take care

because you will forget your fears

and trust your steps as never before,

seek encounters with the forbidden

laughing at the faces of Time and Death.

 

Master beloved

Oh, master beloved,

how your touch is missed,

how your voice searched

in the sounds lost in memory…

Oh, master beloved,

how your scent is lingering

on my skin you knew so well…

Oh, master beloved,

our distance and silence

are also a game of discipline.

 

Hers and his

Her dream was to bear

his mark on her skin,

to get to sleep in his arms,

bathed in his maleness

and her own joyful tears.

Her dream was to live

in awe and gratitude

at the renewed miracle

of his mere existence.

His dream was to hold her

till time was no more,

the world was kept at bay,

and they were alone at last

to die and be born again

in the madness of passion.

 

 

Just now

Just now I remembered you,

years have not faded your memory,

time has not killed my feelings,

desire flows through muy veins

and my spirit remains indómitable.

You gave me once the gift of lust,

of laughter in the face of time,

of love wrapped in companionship

and that stays in me, untarnished,

just like the scent of your skin

in the long nights of solitude,

in the fading seconds, in the lost hours.

 

Why?

Why did they meet?

Was it fate or bad karma?

They met to want each other,

they met to hate each other,

they met to run to each other,

they met to dump each other.

Was it fate, just bad karma?

Or perhaps just twisted love,

masked as casual desire,

hidden between soiled sheets,

lost even before it blossomed.

 

Daze

I slept under an old tree,

when I woke up

the garden was no more.

I slept under a cloud,

when I woke up

the sky was no more.

I slept under the moon,

when I woke up

the night was no more.

Garden, sky and night,

dreams within a dream...

who knows when we are awake,

who knows if we are still asleep...

 

Beauty

And I saw her and then I knew

everything was right.

The circle closed and opened again

completion and freedom

both surrendered us