virgin still seems
tonight that did not stop being beautiful.
Exhaustion takes over the weight of my eyelids and the night closes to me. Short verses dedicated to a woman whose description does not move away from the unreal, unattainable, with eternal residence in my dreams, knowing that talk of eternity is a trifle.
(April 4, 2006)
Delgado
crystal stream of always unsettling murmur,
reflection of what little time there has been
expectantly. Imprisoned
a look,
my imagination flow.
and resuscitate your lips
showing my folly. DNR
one morning and not believe that those dreams thesoul is dead, and find that happiness will not fade a dawn that is yet to come. Anonymous image whose strength fades in the distance, fuzzy features of a past that let him go, or perhaps never came, and also part of the inconsistency that clouds my thoughts. Poetry for the gift of a moment that is immortalized. Poetry to die in your arms, but never get to look at them.
Without any courage or spirit. And no one
scratching, I'm perfectly and we know it. Are only a few verses written on paper and accompanying text, any resemblance to real life (with my current state) is purely coincidental.
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