Maybe,
the perfect word
to
describe you:
Cumulus
of memories attached to your anagram
all
inclusive assumptions
metaphor
intact
synagogue
without walls
a
constant flow of boleros.
The
tide was flooding us
there
was no loophole left untouched,
its
waves swept the darkness away:
I
think of you, I think of you
Maybe,
the indestructible word
tattooed
to our history:
There
were times that hand in hand I walked with death,
it
was the timeless compass of my shadow.
I
lacked air in your presence,
and
your absence made the wind carry me away:
I
think of you, I think of you
Maybe,
this fall
be
like every year:
The
well full, the table set and the coffee served
await
the arrival of newspaper.
I
think of you, I think of you
Maybe
we slept
and
I woke you:
Wearing
the armor in which you met me
Its
soft touch and the black color
endure
protect
deprive
the effects of your spear:
I
think about you.
I
think about you.
Maybe, your meaning
be uncertain:
I silence the omens that precede me,
I receive blows and I get up,
you know that no pantheon will be able to
have me.
I think of you, I
think of you.
Maybe, the world is so small
as to lock it in a ring.
Maybe the perhaps of the however
reach for the opportunity.
Maybe nightmares are part of dreams
and in sandalwood, wounds are healed:
At night the portraits come alive,
under rain the dawn rises,
my sighs belong to you
every time I think of you.
