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ABSENCE
(Love
on the net)
By
Bruno Kampel
As
long as the sensing of your absence be so touchable, I'll solely be able
to cuddle the scars of my memories. Cuddles of waiting, training for the
moment when the keyboard of my computer be replaced by the lacework of
your skin, and my loneliness be dead and buried, drowned in the slits of
your lips.
While your email be my unique and cold comfort, I'll almost be
able to caress the lack of your presence. Love's caress, praying for my
dream become reality, and then, to nail in your soul the meaning of my
poems; to paint in your life the cooing of my petting; to sew in your
heart the taste of my vowel-rhyme; to draw in your mind the outline of
my warmness; to sculpt in your understanding the sureness of my
presence; and - better than all - to throw into oblivion the remembrance
of your absence.
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