This morning ,in the dust under the bed
I looked for something of yours .
But nothing remaining ...
You were just a desirable little quanta
in intimate red and blacks mechanics
which I amused myself by equating
according to my whim ...
I \'m going to make a coffee .
The better to think about
what i\'m not going to write to you.
I\'m cold in your arms .
I want to take refuge in other sheets.
You know...Poets can only love
their reflection ,
But only if it\'s obedient ...
I need inspired departures ,
not 3 shameful words
that taste like a quick shot
of coke before work ...
You were just the requiem to come
for some bad rhymes of the kind
that seduces maids and depressives...
We were just a solo that played
false recital of the great waters...
Dirty laundry spinning
in the boredom\'s recycling machine ...
Your bewitching night water
is nothing but a whiff of cooking .
I have to take out the garbage.
It\'s wonderful to think
that I won\'t have to bring your dog
to pee anymore !
I could read in its silence
how much he hated me ...
Tonight ,you\'ll sleep
in another bullfight ,
and when the beast falls ,
Will you think a little of me ?
_______________________________
Love is infinity within a poodle\'s reach .