Easter in Italy
If you had told me
In a foreign land that
I breathe you in,
A kick inside the ribs
Panging furious and flowing
sweet against moonlight laden brown bricks
turned crimson. In Italy we are
Anchoring ourselves in the moment
With time flowing like water
Through the treads in a motorcycle tire.
Where I am to meet you
Naked against the tightening in my throat
Tasting the weight of your new soul
As I have carried mine all this way.
Only to find your lips withered away in Dubai
And the familiar face admired
Stamped in the desert sands.
Reluctantly I taste this bitter truth
That I’m in love with a ghost.