the poems
of the wretched
of the heart,
of the madman
give me back my life
the joy,
the delight,
the words,
the lost time
and the necessary embraces.
If they could
the goodbyes
tearaway
the phantom memories
that interrupt my sleep.
If they could
the lonely hours
of cold,
of stumbling,
make me innocent
and strengthen my feet.
If they could,
it would be incredible
my existence.
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...
