I miss winter even though it's autumn, that kiss of yours was the last one without even knowing it, so little memorable that unlike the first one I no longer remember, I must lie and put on other clothes, another hairstyle, invent another situation, did I close my eyes or did I keep them half open? I must confess that I loved to see how you gave yourself to my lips, that's why I kissed you with my eyes open more times than with them closed, you never knew, you would have been angry. I miss your winter blue eyes even though I am the orange of autumn and that seasonal kiss of yours killed me and will continue to kill me more and more strongly, until I am unable to be reborn with the death of summer, you tore my sigh with your winter wind and you took it far, far away, to fall into the wrong arms of the unknown spring and give it my last breath with your mouth. I miss those, your cold lips that die little by little when kissing the false spring, that deceives itself and makes everything be reborn when it cannot do it. You forgot with me that blue so much yours, now when I see them I feel that I kiss you, that I kiss you again, like the time when God introduced us and when we looked at each other we fell in love, me forever, you only for a while. I dry myself next to the trunk of an old tree, that no matter how much the summer waters it is not reborn and the blue that you abandoned dies with me, while we do it I tell stories of you and we laugh, we cry, we love and we wait for death to come, merciful, for both of us.
Photography by Michael Dietrich