I never tried to destroy your sensibility like a useless piece of paper, I never tried to make you think that life has no value, I never got to see goodbyes nor did I ask the pillow for a breakup, only that, one day I discovered that I was not the same person, that my experiences had left fed up with so much present, so much light.They fed on time and they exhausted it, they left free to roam Havana, to devour darkness.
Today, I spend my days reading John Grisham, in a raw emptiness, inaccessible, with stories of a group and prints that hold me back. If I find you it is my flesh that three times will burst. I do not understand. Just like that no more, and no certainty if I want to understand or turn the page. Only that I self-destruct before I hurt you, I can never get down to your levels.
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...
