Polar heatwave, the illusion of a kiss

In her wild eyes vast as the desert

The thirst for love did not know how to speak

Yet she screamed in every direction

She got lost while searching for the illusion of the mirage

She seemed to be dancing in front of a glassless mirror.

Everything was the same, nothing brought it together,

Her heart burned with amorous sorrow

It scrolled through her head,

When she dared to close her eyes to rest, in this frantic race for freedom

She knew the wind was whistling for her to continue

A season came back to her mind, and it was the only buoy to hold on to

To continue walking, a dream flashed through her mind

Around a large table filled with food and drinks,

All the aromas, even if delicate, touched her entire being

She knew that the sand would never fill her

Just like her brazen efforts to lose herself, once it became reality, she was enraged with an ageless sadness,

And each storm repeated to her the song of tears of rage,

Because she could never get out of this dry labyrinth

Locked up too long in a field of infinite hope

She would have done anything for this sign of life

She tried to draw love from a thousand evanescent mirages: so beautiful, so cruel

Just like the bodies she would have liked to touch,

One last hope on the horizon

She thought she saw someone in the distance

Was it her angel who came to get her?

Was this the end of this season?

She forgot them every storm, even if every second,

it was what her body dictated to her, what her heart sublimated

Her legs were weakening, and her skin was burning

Had she had a masochistic dream of venturing alone into this endless space?

Everything reminded her of her dreams and the works she had never finished, starting with her chaotic life.

Every lift, every kiss...

Once again, the wind reminded her, with such cruelty,

The delight of a caress, of a perfume, of the only person who bore his name

She hadn't seen him this time, so disappointed with all the pieces of her heart that she had let fly away, too busy holding them back

She kept hope, even when the storm blinded her

The wind seemed to carry her towards a twin frame

She fell on her knees, already inflamed by the storm which had engraved on her a thousand tiny sword strokes.

There was almost nothing left of her

With half-closed eyes, she saw him in the distance,

The sun was burning, and on his mouth,

She thought, for a moment, in one last kiss...