Friday, July 13, 2018

What I feel.

What I feel for you is too deep for me to express.
The words are very limited and I can't find you in my alphabet.

You write two lines and I'm at your feet.
I can smell your skin in your poems.
And that certainly marks talent and a perfect indirect touch.

Forgive me if I write you these things that pretend to be poetry
That feeds your aromas

But I know you don't want me
That you don't like me
That you don't even want to see me in figurines

I understand you
When a madman gets obsessed it all ends like this.

I apologize again
For being possessed of your love
For always waiting for that call
For waiting for you, though there is no hope

No more, please stop
Stop writing
That my thoughts go up to the clouds
And they come back cursed
To drill a hole in my brain whispering your name to me


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