Monday, December 26, 2016



1.      Of Illusion

You wrote: D  e  s  i  r  e
on the tablet of my heart
I walked
for days and days
dazzled      aromatized      and sad.

2.      Of Night

In the loving night, I grieve.
I pity his secret, my secret,
I interrogate him in my blood for a long, long time.
He doesn’t answer
and does like my mother, who closes her eyes without listening to me.

3.      Of Goodbyes

It's not to be said.
It comes to our eyes,
to our hands.  Trembles, resists.
You say you'll wait―you wait― from then until … .
And know goodbyes are useless and sad.

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