You followed the road without realizing the desolate.
Strangeness asked you to return,
but you knew no transitory paths,
footprints, or signs of society.
An icy development
extinguished the wisdom to laugh, to cry.
You felt shadows outranging your skin wrapped
in spider webs.
The earth underfoot like prophecies of darkness,
absurd condition,
you asked for some alternative or plan B
that’s all there is.
You changed to a rough texture,
your tongue met the taste of stone
until you were a complete statue.
Your memories wandered back to the day
you molted a tooth,
the morning you enrolled in college,
when you met your brother in his crib,
the half-day your arm broke,
when you charged your first paycheck,
and all the times you wished for death.
You just wanted to go to a different place,
to return when the nostalgia of the banished one
hurt your arteries.
It was hard to turn you into a shattered glass,
to tear your sculptural organs.
You only wanted to escape to a surprising story,
you didn’t imagine it was the ascent to the wind,
you would have wanted to have a chance to
kiss your parents,
hug the relatives, caress the puppy,
take pictures with friends and be happy.
That’s why it’s worth
to feel each day as if it were your last,
because death comes to do its thing,
and the images that were not shaped enter the night
with their hands cut off.
The world balances itself around words
and perhaps today, in some rock
is embedded a piece of your heart.
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...
