The madness of the pathetic

For you, there is only one writing

there is a circle that has been burned to my insides

my favourite wound

one of the sleeves rolled up

purple lips

lost eyes

and fingers memorizing the last brush of your hands on my skin.

It's dementia

but you were an obsession and for you, there is a round trip

that leaves me thirsty, begging, lost, searching and desperate

because for you I am repeating the same phrases as my body is the ghost of us,

my eyes don't forget the existence of your body

3 steps from me

2 breaths from me

1 kiss from me

and it's madness who knocks my dreams

when I don't remember how to sleep without you

you are my favourite delusion that I remember as stubborn with red

and my memory can jump ship but the fingers still move with a trembling

in Greek,

in death,

your name like a prayer that doesn't get lost

for you, I only have to insist on my poems

that keeps you in the step of close

of the infinity 

of the pathetic

of the need of you in me

TA.