The other night, in the dimness of my bedroom,
three ghosts visited my flesh and my blood.
The first came from the past,
with fingers of smoke and lips of bitter caramel.
Whispers of ancient kisses ran through me,
and my body responded, trembling amid burning memories.
It was nostalgia that caresses the skin,
a fire that burns without consuming itself.
The second came from the present,
with eyes that blazed like winter candles,
grasping my senses like waves of a forbidden sea.
Its breath mixed cinnamon and sweat,
and every caress was a pact of urgency and pleasure,
every moan, a bell tolling my name
in the shadows of the room.
The third emerged from the future,
a ghost dressed in promises and storm.
Its body was a landscape yet to explore,
its hands, maps that drew paths I did not know.
It was the urgency of the unknown,
the heat of what is to come,
and it left me surrendered, wishing that every instant
were eternity in its invisible arms.
And so, that early dawn,
the three ghosts intertwined within me,
past, present, and future burning in a single desire,
my body, a temple of their fire,
my flesh, an altar of ambrosia and sin.
For perhaps I too am a bit of this:
memory that burns, presence that consumes,
future that seduces,
and, trapped in my pain,
sometimes surrender, hungry,
to the dance of honey, fire, and my dreams.
#randomhouse
#osirisvaldéslópez
All ©️ rights reserved. Chicago, United States.
Add comment
Comments