I LOVE YOU UNMAPPED (STEP VI) | Felicia IANCU | Emotional Spoken Word Poetry скачать в хорошем качестве

I LOVE YOU UNMAPPED (STEP VI) | Felicia IANCU | Emotional Spoken Word Poetry

"The trees blossom when you are here. When you are gone, I recite war poetry to you." This is not just a poem; it is a cartography of the soul. It is the sound of a heart padded with soundproof walls, where love isn't just a feeling, but a typography of stars etched into the bone. In this stillness, every word is a "technician of tides," pulling at the gravity of absence. From the salt on the rug to the incandescent fans of burning consonants, this piece explores the sublime accord between who we are and who we lose. If you have ever felt a love that refuses every bribe—jewels, faraway journeys—and remains grounded at "No-Reply International," this is for you. Listen closely. Let the white space breathe. * LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS The trees blossom when you are here. When you are gone, I recite war poetry to you. Your shirts burst into stripes: starch and salt on the rug. One autumn you drowned me in silt: your private jet — an incarnate tattoo — grounded at No-Reply International. Green is a glitch of perception. A procession of horrors without your startled eyes. Your voice erupts from the pavement on its way to the office. You fling incandescent fans — consonants on fire. Technician of tides. Scientist of days that leave my body powerless. Night — carbide shadow over the mute slippers. I pity them. Sometimes I kick them. Love-lyrics have grown beneath my skin, devil quills turned inward. I cannot pull them out. They refuse every bribe: jewels, faraway journeys. You stash a thousand canvases in hidden vaults. You padded the walls of my heart — soundproof. You shimmer from all of them. You rise. You invade me, bone-deep. Your capital letter at every dawn. A typography of stars in diamond nights. The sublime accord of subject and verb. To love you — unmapped. Sea-marks and reefs. Color running loose — splendour. What was I about to tell you? I forgot I was hurting. Stay when I am shipwrecked, my love. Watch me, slowly. Throw me ferns. Abstract life-rings. White space. Be the lighthouse. The spine that keeps me alive. Felicia IANCU POETRY, NOT NOISE. ART, NOT CONTENT. * SUBSCRIBE for your daily dose of sublime. Let’s turn white space into a home. Which line hit you hardest? LIKE & SHARE.