***
Came back, like a dead memory
He worked in the house me sleeping
Lyed by my side and made a bed hole
Stared at me as if I was another
Corpses that don’t get a grip nor graves
Deadly feelings, dear at first, kill faces
Wasting the light in a blured book
No eyes or words to read in it Love
Shadows cover a blank in my chest
No strenght to bear his shattering time
Wind forces my bandage to the woods
Away in creeping a branch that bleeds
Try to hold him, give a chance, care
Is as hard as during an hour underwater
No air nor trust, one cold moonbeam
Pointing in the night the place to run to
***
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario