Don't forget me.
Blurred behind the crystals of my soul
are stirred the silent embers of your mouth,
dream open towards the sweet clamor
of a desire grafting into the powerful
sap of another life,
of another time.
Don't forget me.
Conjugating the verb of the unknown
so many times delayed
into the cracked flesh
of this dwelling,
awaits a warm memory,
shaking as a bird
trembling in pain
or despair.
Nobody open its windows.
Crystals touch themselves through the air
as lovers who ignore
where the distance begins,
where the sorrows end.
Don't forget me,
and mend the world you sheltered
among your quiet
and deep hands,
crystalline butterflies
under the summer fire
that drives sores on every stone,
on every organ that touches.
Don't forget me.
Don't forget me.
Or in the voiceless memory
there will be a wail turned into shadow
without any return nor present.
