take bread away from me

Take bread away from me, if you wish,

take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.
Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
the boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die… ❞
— Pablo Neruda

you, You, & I‧‧‧ — in warm moods

Illustration by Coby Whitmore

Here I am… not naked 
but right in front of your eyes. 
Don’t stare at me… Take me in… 
Without shame unwrap me 
with verbs and pronouns, 
adjectives and nouns… Let it be 
a reciprocally possessive reflection. 
Use for each one, a color or… — 
a wavering light, if it’s necessary. 
You can sneak a whisper of Neruda
 or of another who’s nearer 
to the shelter of your soul… 
Be gentle… — Remember, — 
I’m easily tickled and the pain 
isn’t a part of my game. 
Sniff me, taste me, feel me… 
The way you gonna touch me 
for arranging my attire 
will be captured definitively 
even with the smallest mistake… 
The offer is not a borrow 
so it can’t be taken back. 
Here I am… — not naked, — 
but wondering myself about 
how the “love” will be used, — 
where it will be placed, — 
what part of me will be wrapped 
with the verb of an adjective 
from the noun pulverized 
with known pronouns, 
you, You, & I‧‧‧ — in warm moods 
bathed in moonlight 


un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎

[Illustration by Coby Whitmore]


defines love…
affection transferred 
touch me there…
un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ
Soy Candle │ AC/DC │ Joan Jett & the Blackhearts

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