"Il non sermone della domenica"

Condemned in your eyes.

Condemned in your eyes, I have condemned myself even though feeling the pain that I have given you, like the heat that would slide from a body to another , like twisted fingers of  two lovers with burning passion in fear. The cold of the empty winter full filled of you, it stained my lips and hands. Winter yes, the one thing that you adored. Maybe that was one of the reasons why I went out in the cold, just to feel the sensation  of been invaded like thousand prix of insects bites, welcoming it like it was you, in what ever form, at any circumstances, sacrificing an illness that it was no longer of importance for me to cure.  Why live a long life with out you? Sinning while making a cape of the cold, swapping it with the warmth of that small part of me, that I am once more looking for, to save my self. I called your name repeatedly while my teeth were chattering. Falling into the darkness of horrifying  visions continuing squawking your name, that as been cicatrized in my brain, and in-between tears and fears, I found my self in an unknown road. I lost my self in the echo of my own foot steps. Silence. I didn't think  nothing but you. I followed your image, like a faithful dog following it's owner, without knowing the route or the destination. I saw you after wandering around, still in front of a staircase of an old house. My chest closed tight the air around me seemed like a torment. The pain of you vanishing again was strong; stronger than any existing paranoia, phobia or obsession. I dragged my self with the last breath I had under my tongue and set beside you. Knowing of not been worthy of your attention, I tried talking to you with anxiety like a beginner on his first audition. I focused on a random thing that came across my mind ." Don't say anything" you said before I could utter a word. This is how we spend the next few moments, in the silence Watching, as the cold passer-by walking in a hurry and carelessly, cold dirty and furious, in our silence. You held in your hands a white rose like as if your fingers were a string of grass in a field of vernal. I loved your hands; how many times, in my dreams, I held them for protection against the insecurity of the real world. I loved that tattoo indecipherable like it was a poem, unconditionally, without knowing the significant of the love for you, with no knowledge of your yesterday, with no claim for tomorrow. I loved you because your essence reminded me of the sweet notes of a piano, the once that remind us of a childhood, when we used to see our selves with dirty rain, and mud, that only a mother can wash away, the once that trip you over after a suffocating laughter to release the soul from oppression of an adult life. I loved you because you taught me without having the presumption of teaching me any thing. I was enchanted to look at your heavenly eyes, how can you look at the sky after many years of prison in obscure places, as I looked at the shape of a perfect being just to question my self. Suddenly you got up and before I could say any thing you said again " Don't say anything". I was watching you fade away once again. I was alone. I asked my self a thousand times when do you get used been alone? And I could never find an answer. I remained on those cold and iced stairs where I met you for the first time about a year ago, loosing my self in my deepest thoughts. Not even that strong mistral could have taken all those thoughts always of me and you, us. As I remembered when I used to swing you, I fell asleep against a column of an arcade under construction. Don't tell me, I am really dreaming without the usual palpitation. I woke up brusquely. I have been laying on a bed. The bedside table seemed like a cemetery of handkerchiefs and the food untouched, the sheets engaged of salty gems melted in repeated torment and there you were, behind me near my spine I could hear you breathing frenetically, with sobbing tears and poison, of confused words. As I turned for a moment I lost my self in those heavenly eyes; but it was only a painted cerulean of wet red webs. Fixed at the emptiness I felt crossed by your glance, like as if I were invisible. I felt a pain. And you still said "Don't say any thing". You got up with drifting steps I saw you disappear again. This time I followed, you were standing there in that terrace where we used sit and event stories, behind a cliff, with a scene of the see that never ended to surprise us; always new and impetuous, and antique like the love that I felt for you in one life. While I lost my self in those thoughts I felt small fingers touching mine: A little girl with the same traits somatic, she smiled at me like she wanted to tell every thing is ok! I am here!

Condemned in your eyes. I was condemned because I was able to  hurt you, even though I felt the pain I gave you. But I wasn't to blame I didn't do it purposely. Some body decided for me that my time there had ended. I saw our last instants and you, my love, with every part of you, clinked not on my body, not on the skin, but on the soul. You rebelled your self with words of anger and confusion, but I didn't want to remember you that way. I answered every petition any way  I could, besides "Don't say anything". Until my last breath. Silence. While I recall just like a spectator my last day on this blessed earth, I realize that I pictured that resemblance of you on a child that we could never have, As I donate the same eyes as yours, in my madness, that you could look at me without by passing, or I would die for the second time without your gaze.

( © Maria Francesca Consiglio Writer - all rights reserved.)