Last erotic encounter

True to yourself

you must be careful and admit it, 

fully aware of your own insignificance.

You must suppress, without a wagging finger, 

that temptation with the unsayable, 

lurking like a hidden spider 

next to its web in the emptiness 

that surrounds the sunny sphere 

from the abyss of darkness. 

Try briefly closing your eyes 

from reality and open them again 

in the land of dreams.

Still in bed and within the tentacles 

of a last erotic encounter 

you hear the clutter of cups, 

the laying out for breakfast. 

Still naked between the silken sheets

you feel the arousal of a last embrace, 

the kiss of a long lost lover 

languishing on your lips..

as if this dimension were the true one, 

not the other calling to feed your body.

A feeling of ambiguity to be precise; 

the voice in the background, 

knocking at your door reminds you

the time and rips you out of emotions 

to fling yourself out of bed 

in an attempt determined to not allow 

this other reality anymore.

The truth is that the voice calling for breakfast 

is the true master of the situation 

and with some gesture of gratitude

you sit down at the breakfast table

praising the good variety of jams, 

the crisp and buttery croissants, 

the excellent cups of coffee.

And in an unheard cry of anguish

you beg for forgiveness.