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poems

I thought I knew what art was, but then you took off

layers of black and black only clothes you always wore

quickly in my notebook, I wrote down a list

of all your tattoos and places you picked to have them in

on your chest, there is written

my name in black ink

it is not weird, it never was weird

after all, it means a Sunday

a day when you were born

quite some time ago

but my name means also The One Who Belongs To The Lord

and God knows that night I did

in the darkness of November after a decade I worshipped a body

and was worshipped by one

I have visited many worlds

a tantric, a kinky, a tender twice

but this time they all came together

as I finally made love

in frozen, heartless, coldest times

you melted my being without any words

tattooed fingers counted my ribs

Way of Sorrows recalling I wished

for nothing but to escape, to run away

before with memories I crucify myself

I stayed

convincing my heart

it is strong enough to carry this cross

in each despair, there is always a hope

in the morning I realised how big that bed was

and I remembered the goodnight kiss on my neck

sniffing my hair

somewhere between my left ear and a collarbone, you wanted to move in

you wanted to have a home

I remember how gently you leave, covering me

coming back minutes later to bring two cups of coffee

I sentenced myself

though I thought I was not starving anymore

my mouth was open

craving everything you kept untold

waiting for a breadcrumb

to fall down from the table by which you eat

I would pick each tiny piece

to pray to

to feed on

to meditate upon until

two times I fell

draining, starving, yearning

the hunger in my heart was not really helping

how can two people differ so much

when their bodies once separated die to be touched

by the other

by each other

we slept with the ghosts repeating past scenes

your shield protected you perfectly from feelings things

but not towards me

never towards me

you see I am a weirdo

my beauty lies in the fact that I can never be forgotten or frozen

no matter the times

and when I love

I give my all

but when I leave

for good I am gone

but I came back

because your ghost

travelled with me through all the countries I crossed

each time I was in trouble and when at peace

I wanted to be melted once more by these

tattooed fingers

your face of a God

the body that floats so perfectly with mine

we took a walk unable to speak

no words could ever stop us from this

you are leaving the country

y o u a r e l e a v i n g t h e c o u n t r y

which station is this

are we even halfway through crucifying me

kissing my wet eyelids you said

I wish I felt more

I wish I knew how

I am not a patient woman you should know by now

I cannot spend another decade opening doors

there is my name on your chest

yet in this lifetime we only remain two ghosts

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about

about the author

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What is your blue ocean?

Mine is bittersweetness, nostalgia and longing.

Hi. I am Domka Spytek and these are my heartaches turned into poems. For the past two decades, I have been writing pieces about love and grief, nostalgia and longing (mostly for the place called home). I embrace my melancholic nature by finding a little bit of sweetness

in the sadness of all the experiences. 

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