Wednesday, November 18, 2009

dream of life blues

These years are real.

The pile of old photos,
with upturned corners,

without lines around the eyes,
are not lies.

These days are invisible.

The moments obscured by overcast skies.
A handful of flowers.

If only my heart could talk,
it would say, “I wish I had you”.

These hours are for laughing in the night.

No longer hell bent, waiting.
Impending doom my mistress.

To the fantasy, I willingly surrender.

1 comment:

  1. uta le dista al clavo, man
    para mí estos días (la última semana) han sido invisibles