ADRÉE

I translate your eyes in the shade of my drained legs and, sometimes, it seems that we are the same race at the time when your eyelids crawl on the earth’s plagues to entertain your senses… I have learnt to love you where the perverse hides the reflection of your cruel nails, the pale gold of your chest and the architecture of your armpits. I believe that you are, with heaviness, the evocation of a voluptuous time that stops above your steps and sometimes, you are also the sides of my breasts and my brain/ a completely blank canvas.