My love is all my heart

but it is sorrow that lays

upon my breast, dissolving

the amorous quest in particles

of doubt and crystalline scars,

murmuring words and melodies

woven out of fond black stars.

My love is all my dreams

but it is fear that ties my mind

and eyes, galloping my fractured

skies, whipping my hesitant soul

in this ungrammatical nightmare,

spurring me on to this abyss of

sick roses and despair.

My love is all my world

but it is just another day on the

ground and he can't hear me,

my heart doesn't make any

sound. And he can't see my

legs and velvet dress, he is

blind to my beauty and maybe

to my loving caress.

My love thinks my lips are easy

and my hands are cheap toys,

a nest of naughty cowboys.

My love is still my love

though I had long forgotten

all our gentle joys.

Karla Bardanza

No comments:

Post a Comment