Days have passed like voices,
the useful voices through the air when it fills.
Too many days have passed
to which I speak short circuit.
And thine - those of-
le, from the other, from the other,
other voices
I of them, of them
of me and nobody
from anyone.
Women's faces appeared to me
on the marble facade,
full of december light
and too light to notice
whether young or old, creatures
natural or animal.
The geometries appeared,
the fictions, and all the inhabitants,
sliding neighbors, secret,
cracked by the sliding sun
from mouth to mouth, body to body,
joined real people,
made me a figure.
Counting is the only,
recognize in exact light
the voices that don't seem real,
you want transparent,
innocent or simple –
and make you much more unique
than a single person.
About the Creator
MecAsaf
Hello, my lovelies!
Welcome
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Comments (2)
Loved the voice of this! Fantastic work!
This is such an original piece of poetry - I really liked it!