Ossídio Gaspar

It has been 6 weeks

I cannot write about this

I should miss you twice

Once up there

Again down here

From memory to page

Writing to rewriting

Belief to sincerity

Chance to expression

Made from something else perhaps

Made somewhere else

Indefinitely

 

I should leave us alone

To concert an existence in a new foreign language

To make this misunderstanding an authentic one

To make this choice an aesthetic one

With little detail left unsaid

Because left alone with my intentions otherwise

My words miss you

My heart strives to make more sense

Where more nonsense is made instead

My mind is the last excuse for this mess

When the mess is the perfect repetition

And in between we take something

I can give to my struggle

Otherwise just as meaningless again

 

And I do remember as I can remember

And I write still like this

When writing promises a future of memories

Somehow I feel that if I can write this feeling

All feelings will be said

And being said I will have

Myself and you

Again

Making this night

Another night like the one I have been pining for

Losing strength over

Forgetting everything for

Including you

To want you more than just as much again

To come back

To give back to me all I have left behind

In this late life idealisation

Late night realisation

We put everything back together at once

 

Now that I am closer

I can see how far away you are

Six weeks later than usual

And I would have waited there

If we could have both stayed for the next time we met

But this is where everything became unusual

And I come to my very late senses

Where all the things are known to have disappeared

I wish I could count these hours instead

I hope my memories are not some lie

That my fantasies are not all of my own self-making

Right down to our next meeting

 

With sincerity,

I know we may have never taken place

And I know that there is too much to really know

But to think again about everything

And to study the will

To do this

To have it all already done

Just as we were about to know each other

Because it was sincerely this feeling

That for itself was feeling like I had always known you

So perhaps we may never have properly met

But exchanged a certain consciousness of one another

The sort of thing that cannot be known and for knowing is the sort of thing of nonsense

A biographical relationship

And growing further still out of this I exchanged my will

To stay there with you

After all

Despite these things looking more like

Everything had gone away

 

Now I regret to inform myself of nothing

Perhaps a sort of confidence anyway

Keeping me certain with the uncertainty

Of you

With me

For I can recollect what is nothing instead

Because there is nothing to be made

Either way

Because you are this unforgettable life

About all of life that becomes forgotten

Anyway

 

Until we have met again

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