Poemless Nights

Dedicated to all who learned to love by loving.

chapter 14: dangerous

I got high

on her cologne.

I didn't like to be alone.

I was the king in her throne.

Mary Josephine and Al Capone.

bad energy stay out of my zone!

dangerous,

we were together again.

dangerous,

we didn't follow the brain.

dangerous,

our hearts were to blame.

dangerous,

she stayed because of the rain.

dangerous.

chapter 15: imperfections

I woke up by the sound of boiling water

she was making coffee.

"I love your apartment, Dave.

you live like a prince."

"prince? please!

I'm still the same goofy guy."

"the imperfect one?"

"exactly!"

she smiled.

"I'm not looking for perfection anymore,

I prefer wholeness,"

her word calmed my heart,

and made beauty of this whole mess.

"you know Dave,

accepting your imperfections

is the first sign of perfection."

chapter 16: notebook

after breakfast

she went to my office room.

she observed it closely.

a big desk with an iMac,

a black office chair,

a big library of books

in the background,

a box of cigars,

cedarwood.

handmade cigars,

the smell of Cuba,

with a taste of Communism.

so that's why I spat

every time I smoked.

a Chacom pipe,

marble glossy cover,

made in France.

It's true what they say:

"France changes people."

"why do you smoke that wooden pipe?"

she said, smiling.

"well, it makes me smarter."

"how is that possible?"

"when I smoke, I shut my mouth

and it hinders me from talking.

instead, I listen."

on my desk

she found a notebook

that contained some poems.

"can you read them for me?"

"are you sure?"

"I am. I miss your poems."

"okay then."

so I started to read

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