Flores
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Complete Wed, May 23, 2018<5 mins
Era un chico medio raro, de pintura duces y cigarros
andando por la calle desabrigado, con un pañuelo en la mano
y un cigarro encendido para calmar el destino, son los delirios del pasado
Amanecido en borracheras, tomando las escusas de escribirte nena
vaya cosa fina, el frio de noviembre que pone a temblar mis dientes grises
son vientos que recorren en contramano, que critican donde estarán tus labios
Él te sueña siempre en sus brazos, flores recogidas de corrida es un regalo
y en tu pelo puede ver, las galaxias acercándose a la distancia
es el cosmos de tus ojos que mantienen dopado un poco tranquilizado
esta mierda que se secó ase tiempo enterrada en mi pecho
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