Ashes of Love

Behind the cornea, pictures of skin mixing with sweat. Her softest thorn of joy and pain, pushed into my spine with incandescent bliss.

Her saliva germinates weightless body, my fingers, her hair, a fresh breeze in a Amazonian jungle. As I feel the wind under my nails, my veins become roots, craving the scent of her soil.

Passing the threshold of the invisible door, my eyes hold the lines of her chiaroscuro shoulders. Now she is only a screen of vibrating colors, a red sun takes one last breath.

Beside her, my pupils are black holes, melting time, slicing my thoughts into thin dragonfly wings, turning them into dust and flames. I now hold a bird that’s turned into a moth, as it takes off it fills my hands with black smoke. Green turns to black, love becomes latex.

by mauro a. nieto