Shade by the moonlight 

The sun is a candle…

burning inside the mirror 

Yet another reflection

It’s rays fall cold on my skin

A bleached rose

smell the sixteen,

Whirl in the abyss of love

An ocean,

Drowning in its waves

The salt crystals molten on the walls of my lungs

A burning thirst,

addicted to the flames of your kisses,

fallen into a shade by the moonlight

The forever winds

Breezing on my rugged skin

The memories to the grave

Wilted flowers carried from it’s stones

Into the skies,

When I become gray



head above the sand

“I’m only trying to build a castle from my childhood fantasies”

I fall back at the day’s break

With the sun on my skin,

The dust on my soles prints on her floor

How much to pay?

When to repay?

The loyalty and affection

She rubs softly on my shoulders

And my soul sails away from the worries of tomorrow

I have fallen,

I have crawled

I answer to no soul but her

crossing the dunes my head above the sand

my eyes search for the oasis

The last sunset 

A breath that lives

A mother’s kiss printed on your forehead

farewells into the open sea

A sailor’s oath 

Hands printed into the wood,

and feet anchored in the deep waters

The curse of the black chest

You swim with the snakes,

and despoil with the wolves

You eat with the strangers,

and fight besides your brothers

The vanity

The Gold and wine

The withering pleasures of flesh, 

The molten statues of youth

Dusted, and ruining

With the sea’s song along a soft tide,

You catch the last sunset

A mother’s smile 

As you drown,


into the oblivion 


With a broken voice,

Sounds of her weeping guitar

She darts like a humming bird

Among falling branches


Will she be free?

From the violent hands

Dad is a drunk

and I hide in the closet


She says, “It is alright”

Kissing my forehead

Her cold lips are bruised,

Is it blood?

or tears?

that I feel on my skin


when did the roses decay?

Or they became bruised

Fallen to the ground

Where angry feet creased their petals


The frames are broken,

The pictures are in the flames

The vows are the ashes,

of yesterday

When she was a humming bird,

Chirping in the early spring

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