Yesterday, I thought a lot about you.
I saw the beauty of your eyes and your loss, as if the world had not caught your attention, or rather, you saw it empty and without anything in it.
I wanted to tell you about what your little smile did,
but I am unable to untie the shackles of my astonishment.
Silence is a predatory night that leaves our confessions bleeding with gloom.
It cannot quell the oozing tears nor gather what air is available.
When we contemplate, we transcend the boundaries of passion, so we do not seek refuge or seek help.
We become bearers, carried, for we are the Eden and salvation of longing.
Do you know how sorrows blossom, or when their publication is stabbed Its fragrance
You realize that the more we mature, the more we renew our loss with painful swelling
I wish I could remove silence from its prison
So that excuses could come with a plea for satisfaction
If I removed something from the sound of my pulse and its cry
I wouldn't stand idly by
Your old letters quenched an ancient thirst
When will the seeker return like a cloud, draped in ecstasy
And you and that light suspended between two expectations
I see it unable to break the darkness,
And hope hanging on a closed door, dead while alive
Lovers depart too, but they leave their pains wandering
And the night also pursues them and reminds them of sorrow
And we are alone in the loss
And in this dispersion, we have followed vanishing on its camel
We have grown tired and taken much weariness and a little stillness
Vanishing never succeeded
Neither did the call succeed
And here I fight dissipation
To be victorious
Perhaps it will snatch everything
