She reached out her hand
and said nothing.
She didn’t need to.
In that open palm
was all the tenderness in the world,
and all the guilt in the world,
and all the whole world.
And on her face,
soft, sweet face,
was born a smile
of someone who
never stopped loving me.
And I cried so much, my God!
How I cried.
The tears washed my soul,
my fears all defeated,
my paranoias shelved
for later.
Then I, trembling,
accepted.
I did so with absolute fear,
with the absurd dread
of losing what was already gone.
Hopelessly hoping there were still time
to save the irreparable.
And I was so happy!
But dreams, alas, do not lie.
And so I woke up with my hand still raised,
yet no other hand was there to touch mine.
The house was quiet.
Construction noises woke me up,
already tired.
The room still intact.
The body still whole
except for the heart,
shattered —
like a plate thrown
onto a kitchen floor
no one cleans anymore.
– Painting: Fritz Quidenus (1867-1928), A Clandestine Embrace.