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A whole week.

Seven agonizing nights; seven suffocating nights rushing over me, parching my soul with their torrid breezes.
Myriads of mosquitoes murmuring in the dark, looking for prey: my own flesh, my own blood.

Nights extending their heavy tentacles over the city, strangling it as a venomous octopus; abandoning it at sunrise lacking vigor, emptied of hopes, filled with trash.

Glued to my body, lace and silk soaked in perspiration: fingers of delirious passions looking for my skin.  

In this city clocks have no hands, years have no months, months have no days.  Outside of time, this city is innocent, perverse, philosophical, suicidal.

Shadows of your eyes

Fragments of your love.  

Dark.

image: Guryanov Andrey; Shutterstock; [link]

short prose from my book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings:
available for pre-order on March 30th.
publication date April 30th.

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

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