Osaka Poem by Aldo Rino Smiloveux Bell

I flew over it.

You weren’t there.
He wasn’t there.
It was after.
After
the heat
from your kisses
had vanished into
the coolness
of early spring.

The wetness
evaporated
into the clouds.

After the
satisfaction.

No one in the street.
No one in the concert hall.
Nor backstage.

Just tiny echoes.

From the meeting
of eyes.
Burning
Into each other.
Realizing
the truth.
Embracing
the heaven.

It was

after
me.