Bia Lombardi

"A woman may very well form a friendship with a man, but for this to endure, it must be assisted by a little physical antipathy." - Nietzche

AUTHOR: Bia Lombardi DATE: 8/17/2005 06:39:00 pm ----- BODY:
And I, remembering your face in the dark, with the equal measured light from the Lighthouse shining, wheeling, catching in sharp light and shadow the terrible beauty of your lean cheek and slender jaw, and relinquishing you to the dark, only to catch you up again - I am full of a tender maternal, protecting love, warm and full, how full and rich. Your head, bending, nuzzling in the warm hollow of my shoulder, and I, with my fingers firm, tracing the strong line of your young neck. You say: "God, if only I could tell you how much you mean to me. How I used to date girls and grab here and there and have a good selfish time. But it is so different with you. You are so sweet and gentle, the way I thought you would be. I love you. You are so beautiful and you bring out so much in me. You make me feel like a king." So I kiss him, and there is the great dark sea ahead, and above the sheaves of yellow stars, shoals of cold bright pieces of light, and the great wind, blowing always cold gulps and gusts of air, big and soft in the tree leaves, hushing, miracles are happening, and I, strange and elated with a new wonder, child-like in my sudden power, look with eyes large in love and amazement at this intent lovely face so earnest, so close to mine. I cannot bear to leave you, because you will forget, I will forget, except for perhaps once or twice a brief sharp sear of pain as a word, a laugh, a thought of truth, will cut like a knife at all that will have happened after now, bringing clear and wistful to mind the remembering of theses few hours, night and day - and us so young. But of all the nights, rushing backward along the rocket-track of your experience and receding into the dark of your past subconsciousness, remember, remember how he trusting looked long and sweetly at you out of the dark at the door with all the wild wind in the dark grasses, and how love was there in his face - making you, miraculously, the dream girl and woman, sister and sweetheart, mother and spiritual mistress. You walked in, laughter, tears, welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl? ----------------- Of all the times we spend together, was I ever loved by you? Even a tiny little childish love? 'Cause I've thought today about all that could have been if there weren't so many "ifs" spoken by your frightened mouth. And what would have happened if you'd forgotten about those "ifs"? Would our lives be different, happier? I can bet the answer would be "yes"... ----------------- But as a person cannot live by "what ifs" I declare that this subject is finally over.
-------- COMMENT-AUTHOR:<$BlogCommentAuthor$> COMMENT-DATE:<$BlogCommentDateTime$> COMMENT-BODY:<$BlogCommentBody$> --------