A Small Siege

Lying on the sofa, half asleep,
I listen for the last time to your raspy voice,
devouring promises.

I feel like a few summers ago in Kassiopi
when I spent an entire night on the balcony,
waiting for an apocalypse I knew would never come.

Only towards morning did I doze off in defeat,
my chest curled up like a huge cellophane bird
that flew too close to the burning forests.

Loneliness comes in waves, mutilating the shores.
It’s just a small siege, a point in time,
a broken mirror reflecting more than it should.