Friday, July 20, 2012

The waving


The waving

I’m here , you are there,  
a vessel  waving in our veins,
the hours  that count my significant 
life, the constant image of  thee, 
you! you are the title of my book,
of my memento, how I seek 
thee in the little things I see
your  face  there in the body 
of a grasshopper, a  butterfly, 
a nectar flower,  any where 
I look I see the endless of your  
profound eyes, in the landscape 
of my deserted life.
Where do you go and where do I look,
it is not that I worship thee 
but  that I need to live. 
I’m dressed with the vision 
of the bride to be in vain,
who  told me I was his , 
I can lie all I want,
I can pretend all I want, 
"why are you so vivid"?
I know is all  an illusion, 
theres nothing real there.
You are gone and I am here 
trying to dismiss the fact
of your cruelness, the smell 
of your last day in my true,
in my illusion, the fantasy 
I created to replace the
pain that follows my aching body.



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