People made up the idea of God and I made up the idea of you… Both for the same reason, both urged from the same force, our fear of dying… If people can love God without having seen His face nor having heard His voice, then I guess, I can continue loving you even though I struggle to remember you… I found my religion in you and then you left without ever coming back… And…
Oh, lover of my youth, loving you was near to death experience… Your body was the deathbed where I’d lie to feel alive, while I was slowly decaying… Oh, lover of my youth, we taste our Karma in each other’s mouth… Will we erase it if we kiss more? You mistook me for your fate and then you run away… Oh, lover of my youth, we’re all born as tragedies that haven’t been written yet……
I took off my mask and I replaced it with your mouth… Scandalous and reckless, I know! But I couldn’t resist the answer of my prayer, the replacement of the fabric touch with your half eaten skin upon my lips… Now, I returned to uproot with my small teeth whatever is left covering your skeleton… I swallowed each one of your freckles like antidepressant pills hoping to cure my incurable thoughts wearing white dresses wandering…