half a heart in the Middle East

a letter, a book, a necklace
a letter, a shirt, a shell
words resonating more than screams
tears flooding more than storms
promises accompanied by a now distant wind
and the restless heart beats to the rhythm of waiting
restless waiting for time to pass,
agonizing waiting for missing to become a habit,
desperate waiting for absence to become a souvenire picture.

you converted me to the religion of infinity
now I pray, believe, feel
infinite space
to manage to find you  between these sheets sooner or later
infinite time
since just one life would not be enough with you
infinite love
for now this is it

the day comes without knocking on the door
the night is late and does not relieve the pain
oblivion of the heart is what I most
fear and desire
I thought the therapy was milk and honey
since being half of my heart in the Middle East
but, for now, nothing seems to heal
me miserable, incomplete at heart

I’ll stay here writing about silences
just give me his eyes back