Sunrays caress you as spokes of a vintage bicycle twirling around your paleness. Wind survivors, your tired hair wouldn't mind my touch even after a thousand shampoos and rough pony tails. And how could I not through my feeble memory aid, sand under high noon, rethread your pretzel braids?
No more blush on you nor diadems of thoughts, only vacant space over our irony’s hotel doors.
My affection still oak seed beneath my knees,
your memory swan lake among these graves,
my tears ajar. Tender iridescence upon you,
red oleander touch left on the cold old stone.
Francesco Capussela is an Italian author born in 1996. His writing is published or forthcoming in SURVIVAL – Award-Winning Poetry by Hammond House Publishing, The RavensPerch, Wingless Dreamer and others. Francesco is also a multi award-winning screenwriter and lives between the US and Italy. – IG: @francescocapu