Posttraumatic laugh

I wonder how the floor feels when we step

with tinted skin

on its wooden ribs.

I also think a lot about how other people suddenly notice

your eyes

when they want to use you or you've wept.

This world is a sad infant,

I know it very well,

but toys and sweets make it easier

to love.

Hope and faith make smiles linger on my face

nowadays,

even if a petty voice is always there to say:

"It's only temporary,love!It's only temporary...".

I find myself torn between

a steep cliff and a volatile sea,

wishing to jump and unable to move my lips.

Black is good,white is even better,

though grey seems to follow me around

like a peculiar lover.

I refuse to lower my heart

into the arms of despair.

I refuse to name my happiness

 a reason of shame.

I refuse to deny my mouth the simple marvel

of a laugh.

Now and then,I wonder

what purpose does my path have.