This despair,
this dry skin with which the fire
is kept in the soul.
The ash perfume of tears.
The day arrives, I master it, like guiding a puppy
though the Luxembourg Garden.
YOU ARE READING
When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
