A space for Madame Fern's latest ARTISTIC PROJECTS and CREATIVE COLLABORATIONS. The first of our LIVING ART collection is a series of six photos, poems, and a short film each to be released daily through the second week of December.
Creative Direction: Fern
Photography: Stef Murza
Set Design: Andrea Herrada
#1: утро | Morning
Shadows of you remain
in these sheets
me in the memories of
from our transient affair.
My being yearns for you,
for your kiss to wake me from my slumber,
your touch to raise my restless body,
your smile to lighten my spirit;
for if I wake up to nothing,
and instead face the emptiness,
it will be better I hadn’t woken at all.
#2 : следующей ночью | The Following Night
Without you here,
your heat radiating in my arms,
my face buried in your sweet tobacco hair,
my lips tingling from your red wine stained lips,
your body twitching as it falls into a dream,
My mind goes too far
where you have been
where you are
and where you will go.
Your solo journey:
No one is permanent.
I cling to my pillow,
left with your imprint,
in hopes the
semblance of you remains.
One faint note of your scent,
#3 ты наконец пришел | You Finally Came
have you been?
“Lost in thought,”
clearly not lingering on the thoughts about me.
You must not be listening,
for if you were,
Piercing past the surface,
my eyes see
Avoidance; your ultimate tactic.
The frustrating voice mailbox your family is met with at each call,
The cocaine that lines your nose as your self-prescribed Adderall.
The unfinished canvas
of your last bloody tissue that foreshadows my fears.
You’ve added me to your list.
I’m no longer an escape,
something of significance to fear,
as allowing me closer
would force a reflection on your decision
to pursue this life,
neglecting others in the process of
#4: в чистилище | In Limbo
He is there.
In the absence of you.
His thoughts result in action.
Though you’re the one with my heart,
his mystery exudes and
pulls me closer
as you choose
not to stand in the way.
You know of my love,
and I know of yours,
but your conscious denial of me,
leaves an empty spot
of chilled sheets,
seeking your warmth
for the heat of anyone
that will fill it.
#5 бруклин детка | Brooklyn Babe
God, it was too much,
Standing in the room
Wishing to hold you and greet you with
a huge hug and dramatic kiss.
Barely uttered a word.
For you abandoned me again.
Words exchanged with others
but not with you.
Your existence is negligible in this room.
But when I depart
and as I cling to your oversized leather coat
Longer than I want.
Only for you to
graze my cheek
before I break free and collapse
from the self-inflicted torture
of ignoring you
and denying every piece of my existence,
keeping the access to my heart
Through the florescent-lit tunnel of doors,
My feet board the L Train
and my body returns
#6 следующий день | The Next Day
Inch by inch
I retrace the paths
your fingertips took,
gently grazing up my arm,
along my neck,
to the bone-filled structure
of my cheeks.
The memory of you
is projected on my body
and I’m forced
to face you.
To face the joy of your smile
the complexity of your inked skin,
the deeply set eyes that penetrate my soul.
He is not the same as you.
Though, thoughts of him run through my mind,
as I lay here in the light
of your memory.
I don’t know if he’ll make me feel what you did.
Your ghost nearly brings tears to my eyes,
but they’ve already been shed.
Wrapped in these sheets with your shadow,
the bed is still void of warmth,
but in this moment you feel closer to me than you have in weeks.
I caress the curvature where my hip and waist meet,
embracing the silence and the heat of my own being,
contemplating what I’d sacrifice
to have you
wrapped in my body again.