Summer comes in a cloudless sky, in summer she comes. Her face naïve, wide-eyed, holding mine with her thin hands, smiling with those teeth.
The teeth we used to hide under her pink pillow.
In summer the house'd enlighten, she'd walk all bare feet and blond hair washing the walls. Humming songs she's learnt without my whistling, drumming nails she's learnt how to polish on her own.
Like lavender the smell of your hair.
And then autumn takes her away again; and the house grows empty, the flowers wither, the walls emphasize the loneliness and the silence and in winter there's no color if not white and red. There's no smell if not the bodies rotting in our hearts, in longing, in missing, in fear.
When his name couldn't be spoken, I only said yours. Maybe praying, maybe begging.
Asking for these kids and for the rain falling from your eyes. That torrential rain, the one from thunders, the sky so clouded we'd think oh god, when will we see the sun again?
But in summer she comes, and doesn't step on the floor, doesn't loosen her hair. Start rubbing that mark that became her friend, that reminded her of bygone days. Doesn't loosen her hair.
"Hide your friend under the pillow", I'd say, but she kept rubbing it and not smiling. And the house was still so smelly and dirty.
"The house gets sadder without the smell of your hair"
And she laughs and that mean old friend disappears from her face, hidden by her teeth, her loose hair washing the walls.
Some things always stay the same.