I give up the idea
of a landscape without you,
of mountains without snow,
of deserts without flowers,
of concrete overwhelming
this grey city.
Memory and territories,
while you search
for a hazy place
where you can pile up
all my memories.
Memory of bodies,
infinite constellations,
complexity made visible,
familiar places.
An infinity of spaces
we travelled through together.
We have not spent
our whole lives in a park.
Spaces that hurt,
spaces that bleed,
spaces that smell,
in a dry murmur,
of struggle and torture,
of past and present,
of autumn rains
soaked into your tree.
I close my eyelids
to spend
a little time alone with myself,
and it comforts me to know
that all the heavens
are the same sky.
