the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: italia (page 9 of 9)

esaltazione inalare

esaltazione inalare

ci siamo svegliati.
come il caffè nero;
Vivaldi’s estate.
quattro ore di sonno –
5am. toccare
con un solo sguardo.
promettente. senza parlare;
un bagliore arancione di mattina –
amore a prima vista;
dita aggrovigliate. gambe avvolte.
come abbiamo segreti
respiro perduto.

inhale elation

we. awakened.
like black coffee;
Vivaldi’s summer.
four hours sleep –
5am. touching.
with one look.
promising. without speaking;
an orange glow of morning –
first sight love;
fingers tangled. legs wrapped.
how we have
secrets. exchanged
with every
lost breath.

invitante infinito

invitante infinito

egli è apparso e
il mio mondo suonava
come corde.
attraverso una strada di città
all’interno della luce solare
mi voltai per vedere
un ritratto della storia;
il mio cuore. rinato.
cigarretes e jazz.
fare l’amore
con parole e suoni
inaudito , indicibili
da qualsiasi altro.

inviting infinity

he appeared and
my world sounded
like strings.
across a city street
inside of the sunlight
i turned to(o)…
a portrait of history;
my heart. reborn.
cigarettes and jazz.
silence and stories.
making love
with words and sounds
unheard, untold
from any other.

this is how it starts and sounds…

from brooklyn to italy

I’ve been vacant a few days. This has resulted in a couple of interesting things. I shook my boyfriend off once and for all. I tried to be upset, but I’m used to dumping boyfriends by now.

I’m not even sure if these people are boyfriends. Maybe they’re just lovers I briefly obsess over because I’m fond of the poetry it all bleeds. Continue reading

how it starts

I bumped my head the night we met and never saw things the same way again.

The second day I saw him, we walked down a boardwalk along a salt-scented Brooklyn coastline. He wore sweatpants and a baseball hat and we talked about him being first generation and me having left for a decade. We comment on the different shades of green blossoms in each other’s eyes. He kisses me at Cony Island, on the subway and all other kinds of pubic places. Continue reading

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