The Empty Places

I didn’t manage to love anyone

even though I hurried so much

It was as if I had to love only empty places

the dangling sleeves without the embrace

the beret abandoned by the head

the armchair that also should get up and leave the room

the books no longer touched

the comb with a silver hair left in it

the cots babies outgrew

the drawers full of unnecessary things

the pipe with a chewed mouthpiece

the shoes molded to the shape of a foot

that departed barefooted

the phone-receiver where voices grew hush

I hurried so much to love

and naturally I didn’t manage