Biarritz

Je me réveille au dessous des nuages blancs.
De ma fenêtre, l’océan hypnose les sensibles.
Le ciel bleu m’enveloppe doucement.
Au loin, les montagnes protègent les invisibles.

Au fil des heures, les éclaircies muent du rose au safran,
Les vagues apprennent que tout est possible.
A vif. Tu glisses. A sueur. Tu vibres.
Amour bleu, je redeviens enfant.

La pluie constante réveille les vieilles cicatrices
L’odeur pensive pénètre ma chair
Dehors, l’orage dénoue la douleur de jadis
Dedans, je vois l’avenir plus claire.

Le vent fredonne les sombres humeurs.
Un bruit de larme passe comme un éclair.
Paisiblement, je revis. Je ressens à chaque heure.
Une émotion. Une liberté sans malheur.

A l’inverse des grandes villes, rien ne sert de courir.
Rien ne sert d’aller vite. Il n’est jamais trop tard.
Le soir, les ruelles me ramènent toujours au même bar où je ris.
Celui où je retrouve des vagabonds comme moi qui croient au hasard.

Biarritz mon amour, je ne pars plus.
Pourtant, rien ne me ressemble dans cette ville blanche.
Du rire aux larmes, je ne te quitterai plus.
De mon île à ta côte renaît un coeur étanche.

Virginie Lentulus.

Pictures by Sebastien Zanella.

Brown Skin

Black skin is a rainbow of burnt shades
Red on sunset. Gold on summer
Orange when the leaves fall
Yellow in the cold.
Delicate.

I was born with moles all over my face
I feel them on my lips when I kiss
They make love on my cheeks
Growing with age
Few people see it.

Rubbing it with a thick cream
like kneading bread paste.
Softens it with black sugar
Until it gets smooth. Velvet.
So sweet you wanna lick it.

Polished with coconut oil.
Gleaming with shea better.
Jojoba balm for the lips
Spraying of floral water.

After giving it so much love
It is the sweetest dessert to eat
But after a sunbath
I’m as tasty as your favorite fruit.

Quivering out of the shower
Goosebumps become silk in my linen sheets
If you touch me the way that I want
You will feel my island in the palm of your hand.

Brow skin.
By Virginie Lentulus.

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Island to Mainland

Island to Mainland

I was born in Pointe A Pitre
In a small clinic on a palm trees square
Near the sea in Guadeloupe
A French Caribbean island.

To me, the sky could be only blue.
The beach, only warm.
A day, only hot and humid.
The night, still shining of stars.

I rarely traveled to the other part of the island.
Driving 1 hour was like flying Paris to L.A.
We are like Parisian Vs Marseillais
But only 63 km apart.

I dreamt of living in a big city from TV
to see big buildings, take a train,
Going to cinemas and museums
See gigs in the biggest venues.

Island life is slow.
We think we don’t have so much to do.
We envy people from France.
Because they have more possibilities. A better future.
Many french people still don’t know
where to locate the french islands on a map.

Swimsuit with jeans was trendy in hight school.
I had three drawers full of bikinis.
At 18 years old, I left to the mainland France to study.
I flew with all my swimsuits in my suitcase.

I was cold already on September.
I bought my first winter jackets and boots.
Lot of socks and colorful tights.
I hated covering my skin so much.
But finally I looked like people from TV.

I was happy.

Written by me.

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My new home

I became more alive since I moved in you.
Not loosing time by taking time.
Bonding with you was like dating a man.
I've just got to get on and open up.
Home lay myself bare.

The first first day I slept with you
I woke up from the sun coming on my face
Warming up my skin.
The sweetest alarm clock ever.
Home surprised me.

Hearing the sea from every rooms.
The baby birds from the tree by the window.
Reminds me of my childhood in my island.
Home knew my memories.

Your blue water is dark and cold.
I can not see anything in it.
I have to wear a winter jumpsuit to surf on summer.
Home showed me to not give a shit.

Those things are used to seem so far out.
when I lived in a big city
I didn’t change a thing - I changed it all.
I am my home now.

Written by me.

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