“It takes two to tango.”

You say that and I wake up.
It’s the first time I come back from a dream with a flavor.

Your big pink tree and its flavor.
On my belly. Under my fingers. Between my lips.
On the skin my tong can taste your absence on a little more.

“Knowledge is pain. Magic is freedom.”

A million crystal shower to ash our last dinner into tears.
I close the door, lit the candle, and a steamy river bursts all the banks of the prison you slaked my slavery with.

I know I chose you because of her.
Of the rough hands that fed my nights with honey
of the blonde hair that sang my earliest prayers
of the invincible smile that no black angel could ever make me kiss goodbye.

“I adore you.”

I couldn’t tell you that I love you.
It’s because I know you can’t.
It’s too much money, too much women.
You’ve got too much – and never enough.

And never enough
I will hear your voice.
Feel your coldness.
Melt your worlds.

Back in my bedroom
the mirror of my mistakes
holds your hands out to me.
Hands I would kiss hold and pray.
Hands I would hide under a coat of lies
to cover all the winter illusions of this warm, far sundown.

“It takes two to tango.”

And a lifetime of starless nights to get out of ours, Jeff.
A million skies have fallen on our dance.
Still, we’ll look for the freedom of its magic
in every other step we take.

Story by Liliana Isella.