Every time
There’s doubt
If I want you
Really close
Just picture me
Defeated
In this kitchen
Pacing still

Even when
You aren’t there
Through an interim
Always waiting
For assurance
From your presence
That our distance
Narrows soon

And duration
Shortens fast
So my torture
Ends abruptly
By that entrance
Swinging open
Where your face
Gleams bright as day

Like one lamp
I long to burn
With our sun
Strong at its center
Lit from matches
Called devotion
Or some faith
Of feelings pure

Shining rays
On lowest points
Warming rooms
Which lack affection
Proving ghosts
Are living partners
Standing silent
Though they’re cold

Praying hands
Not being held
Are soon grazed
From lover’s fingers
Reaching out
Against that quiet
Breaking glass
They cannot see

Shattered whole
But finally free
Leaving confines
Of such pressures
During moments
There is nothing
Except wishing
You are here –

There with me
Inside our house
Knowing work
Could offer nothing
Since existence
Suffers greatly
Lacking reasons
Meaning us.

– J. Pigno