The morning star, dethroned by you, cries like a dusty lyrical memory that nobody needs anymore. Your love’s blaze pushes millions of suns toward the margins of the universe. They look like yellow drops of wax trickling at the feet of saints before vanishing into a pile of sand.
Your touches cloak my skin with new zodiacal signs. Your kisses imprint violet maps on my lips.
I am watching you. You are taming lions. You are awakening fairies. Stella Polaris is shining in your eyes.
I was a neophyte when it came to love. You made me the king of love.
Right hand on my heart, I promise you, Clara, that I will conquer the world for you and I will lay it at your feet.
So help me God.
Excerpt from the manuscript “Glass Lovers”
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