In the black dress you wear, I can still smell your absence in my so called heart.
Lies that's I sense from the start.
You're here but your love is still missing, like a ghost trough the walls slipping.
I was not dead, I was sleeping. This blood that am sipping
taste old and I was thinking,
that I was in bed dreaming and not a hole digging.
I heard a bird singing, melancholic songs copying the bastards and the buffoons.
Why I keep dreaming about you when I know that you're gone. Sweetheart, the phone is ringing.
In the moonlight I saw a shadow running around,
I told him to go away. He laughed at my face, that was painted like a clown.
I've had enough I said, burning them to the ground. From then and now,
I feel sleepy. Like a glass of blood or whiskey, I don't know which one is worst, to be dead or to be alive.
To live and to let die.
EGUTZMAN 2022
ESTÁS LEYENDO
El baúl de las cartas perdidas
PovídkyEscritos de amor, drama y tragedia son los que componen ésta pequeña obra literaria. Cuando los reyes pierden sus hijas y el oro, cuando su amor era artificial, los angeles en las calles que luchan por tu corazón, cuando le escribes cartas a ella de...
