you haven't fell in love since your father died
and the moon turned away from your eyes
the tips of your fingers have never touched me
while i have never seen you naked
gripping the bed sheets in a thunderstorm
you let me sleep next to you
i let the sun in through the blinds
that was the the day when my great-grandmother died
sacred words written on the chapel's wall
her lips cold from her mother's winter
it is not her anymore i suppose
celestial carcass on our love's open fire
the door is still half painted from before
we woke up when he told you he loved you
so the night came up earlier than i did
and she will never love me again
perfect people with their happy faces
i still pace myself in the graveyard
the cross is worn from the decay
and i washed my dress pants this mourning
come down from your clouds my dear
before icarus reaches eternal light
the piano keys are forever stuck there
in the end i found happiness in our death
i still keep that old bottle of your perfume
on the nightstand we used to share
the sun will rise in the early morning
but it will never wake your eyes shine again
ESTÁS LEYENDO
if not human
Poesíathe anthology of emotion, the passing of life, the epilogue of pure, unfiltered regret this is "if not human" poems, prose and stories from the dark