Kiss of Dawn

Body crumbled
after a wicked wild night
of stomping to the beat
in a space of youngsters
barely covered by pieces of cloth
they call clothes

sipping on alcohol they are barely familiar with
paying with daddy’s card
and you just stand there
turning a blind eye to all of this
injecting yourself with a musical connection
sleep is far-fetched at the moment
it’s your second night out, slept at 7 am yesterday
and today it’s already 3 am

You sit in the back seat
the window is open, you let the wind
play with your hair
while you hear the murmurs of gossip
going on in front

You’re somewhere else,
India maybe, wait, Amsterdam
you’re just somewhere else
“collecting your thoughts”
what a stupid saying, who collects thoughts
you can never do that, they flutter and move
sway, and are just too sporadic to collect
thoughts are not collectables
or else that would just be boring
you collect stamps, you have them
you reminisce when you open your book
but then what..

while leaving thoughts to their nature being
surprises you in ways
that your brain sometimes
glitches with “what the fuck’s”

Back to the back seat
where was it again?
India, maybe because you smell incense
oh yes, the wind and your cigarette
fighting the energy that’s burning it faster
than it intended to be

“Where are you?” one of the front seaters uttered
“I am not sure” I said, while I swayed my head
from the window to her
(writer’s block don’t just freaking hate that)

I suddenly find myself
in the sand somewhere on the cusp of dawn
I smell like an ashtray and with sea scent
like one bad glade air freshener
legs extended, the sea tried to get a taste of me
his tides where getting higher and higher
I was seducing the sea, or at least that was a thought
that made me giggle at 5 am

Imagine how lonely the sea is
he wants a taste of something
he wants to give and also to receive
where is his lover? Can it be the sun?
but she’s taken, the moon already takes his light from her

Maybe his wrath is just as angry as his tidal waves?
It’s not easy to be lonely, especially when
you’re the subject of many stories but rarely a love story
Maybe he quenches his anger by swallowing so many ships
wrecking so many adventures and harvesting
another world below

But, I sat there, barely giving him a taste
and wondered, how has rested without a lover by his side
people tell stories about him, but who listens to his?

As I was finding a lover for him
trying to end his longing for an embrace
those hugs that secure you all night
“yea one of those”

I saw a thin hairline of yellow and purple
align the horizon
“Dammit, why am I not sleepy”

silence, even the sea was quieter
just to give that moment its grace
Then it hit me
“what if the sea falls in love every morning
with sunrise and bids his love farewell
at sunset?”
“What if his mythical creatures
tame his angry waves by telling the sun
it’s time to rise?

I was jealous of him, she kissed his blue color
with waves of purple, orange and yellow
she made him feel beautiful
she intoxicated him with her beauty
to the limit, where it would take barrels and barrels
of alcohol to take the same effect on us
how sad!

imagine, there is moment where the sea and the rise
are one, they merge, they unite
You turn to see your friends

They too were silently holding
a conversation in their own heads
I wonder
did they ask the sea
the same question I did?
I wondered
what their thoughts
while they
silently waited
to see the kiss of

sea lover


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