>it’s not about spanish tunes, lost
on the floor, hidden in loops on the carpet,
bouncing back from deaf, tired walls like
boozed soldiers when the battle is won.
it’s about fighting, losing and feeling
black lashes brush soft on pale skin and
letting you kiss me all the way down to the
ground, the earth, the real where it started,
where i get quiet, where i feel your strength
burn my night until i can smell again, until
it tastes right, until it was not, it was never
anything else but you & me on the floor
in the silence, the dark and getting lost on
your lips with what you call love – and it is.