Telling stories since I have use of knowledge.
Even when deviants, asleep are, My soul wonders in the sky, Walking in a town, I believe is my own. A silence retreats covered questions with an unmerciful despise.
By Val Mijares6 years ago in Poets
Looking out of the same window, Dust in the corners, still. A paralyzed sand. Awaiting for our blow. We don't. Only leave it slightly open,
You left. It seems like seconds ago, Tomorrow the sun will rise. And my smile will rip in half, Thought I wasn't desperate enough.
I have my nose inside the palms of my hands, I rub them hard... Everywhere, As to smell the rain trapped inside the walls of this humid city,
Observe the shadow move slowly from the other corner... See her disfigured outline? It's cold outside, and the smoke translates the unusual night.