My mirror is
In front of us
The same you used
To hide from
Every time
We came across it
But now
You’re looking to it
You’re looking forward to it
To see what it says
And it says nothing
And you feel relieved
About the nothingness
And I’m so sad
That you’re so glad
You’re finally
Getting it, dear
What’s left is left
It’s a slice of bread
Chewed in
Your mouth
You’ve been
Swallowing it
Since we met
Hoping
You’d like it
Some day
But bread is bread
My dear friend
And it wouldn’t change
Not even
In December
Not even
On a Thursday
Not even
For a whim
The coziest whim
In September
4 comentarios:
pondre play en mi reproductor
salud por la fama!
frans, dear im so glad you like it
Lo que escribes te refleja. Extraño, agradable, a veces adorable. Me enseñaste dos palabras. Me gustó tu apellido medio mafioso, medio de cirujano sicópata asesino, medio de familia de Verona enfrascada en disputas rencorosas y amorosas.
It's such a pain when you realize that some things are just whims and nothing more. But, at least you know that life continues and there'll be a moment in which you'll find "the something" you've been looking for.
My dear of course I liked it, and you knew it.
lov ya!
Publicar un comentario