THE BUMPY ROAD

My grandpa used to say, "Why so much jumping, being the ground so smooth?"
Being a working woman in high heels I should know it is not true.
The ground is bumpy, it goes up and down, it has holes, it has stones, it has small pebbles that get inside the shoes making the walk even harder.
Of course it sometimes is smooth, and when it stays like that for long it may get boring.
It may not be easy, it may not be comfy, it may be tiring, it may be frustrating end even excruciating, but it will be rewarding... some day. I hope.

LACK OF CLARITY

Other could have been his answer,
Different could have been his response.
Leaving aside all remorse,
He still a lot made me wonder.

DOUBT

MOURNING IN THE MORNING

My earlobes are mourning the loss of the earrings.
The earrings lay abandoned on the shelf,
watching me while I get dressed.
I brush them while I take the bottle of perfume.
I doubt, but I refuse to wear them again.
Not anymore.
But my earlobes are not ready for any other pair.
My heart is in pain, but you still hover inside, reckless, caged, uncertain of staying or leaving.
Every morning is the same.
When I look in the mirror something's missing,
but if they hang from my earlobes, still you're missing.

ELEGANTLY WASTED

Door ajar:
Over the rug
both Jimmy Choo lay spread apart from each other;
Louis Vuiton is vomiting coins, credit cards, keys and more
marking the way to the big king size bed
covered in a huge goose dawn edredon and golden satin sheets
where I lie half-naked, messy haired, spinning head.
Too much red.

I AM THE CLOUD

I am the rain loaded cloud.
I am the cloud full of promises, of riches.
I am the messenger of fulfillment.
I am the cloud with a silver lining.
I am your Cloud.

MELANCHOLIC MOON

The moon is shining high,
its light spreading all over the sky,
smiling in a sad, benevolent way,
watching us all,
wondering why.