Gabriella Alziari


I do not crave you

when the fruit is ripe, 

you think I’d be tempted

to taste it

but I do not crave

the moistness 

dripping from your lips, 

the space 

around your tongue

for it is not mine

your harvest is not

my healing

my healing 

is made of 


the echoes 

in a cave of sorrow, 

the ripples 

in a lake of tears 

when I let my heart 

crack open, 

and am brave enough 

to embrace it

that is how I heal:

from within