Bedrooms
As a child, bedroom too small, clothes, books and toys on the floor, and the threat that all of it would be thrown out of the window. Then, piles of clothes on the parquet, and others thrown into wardrobes
The bedroom in the afternoon after coming back from school, several months of touching before accepting
The one that was the scene of my first time, and going up the ladder to get to the bed, him looking at me, behind, the burning between the thighs, then the trousers that you put back on, tight, too tight
And later, other nights, the noise of his parents making love, whereas I have no more desire
A bunk bed in a tiny room in a ski resort, the feeling of having been forced, tears in my eyes
The one on the seafront, love quietly, stifled so as not to be heard
At the hotel, a moment so waited for. And love impossible, the body that refuses, sick
The one of the last love, almost adulterous, the bed directly on the floor, one of his shirts on my naked skin, the noise of the street below, through the wooden shutters
At an absent friend's place, love twice in a row, I cry the first time and he does the second
All the shared ones, with the fever of the desire to be alone together at last, eager hands
The one that I come back to, after the accident, disfigured, love as a desperate act to erase the marks on my face, head turned
And, the room that you no longer want to leave, to remain in, in retreat from the world
|