My gypsy heart in flames

There are so many things I could say
I could talk about the clouds hanging like a blanket on the top of the mountain range
You can see fringes of them galloping like mad horses towards the city
I could say how your eyelids open up like daisies in the spring and within them they reveal the turquoise Mediterranean.

I have hidden treasures within, my gypsy heart in flames.
Tear drops
Amalgamated heartbeats and clockticks and windhowls and cracking firewood
Little pearls dissolving in vinegar held in a china glass resting in the hand of the empress…

There are so many things I could say
I could talk about the sound of the heatwave in the cement jungle
The sound of your lonely footsteps on the cobwebbed streets in La minore pianissimo
I could say that the sea has many blues and the deep dark acrylic one scares me when I place my face close to it wondering what’s coming from beneath to grab me.

I have a bundle of toys veiled within, my gypsy heart in flames
Sweatdrops on my brow
Little pearls dissolving in vinegar

I have so many phrases to choose but they don’t mean a thing
What matters most are those that do and so it is

Now that we are certain that they lied to us
Now that we can see them lying to others
Now that we know what real is and how these unbenevolent fools are convinced their unethical ways are just and right
Now that they baked colic bread and try to force it down our throat
Now that winter rests in the beginning of the summer
Now that spring came and went without a flower leaving us bitter
Now that the ones who gave birth turned their back on their child

Now, my gypsy heart in flames, I love you more than ever.