PENELOPE

 I weave fate and love every single day.



Threads undone at the dead of night


as my despair crushes my thirsty soul


lost in moments of past delights.

When sorrow silences my heart, my



art of delay is my shield and protection


against time and its hands of pain and


fear, crying I weave alone my acid tears.

For him I wait split up between real life



And my own dreams, dying every now


And then, falling apart at the seams.

For him I fish courage within, for him I

long for and I shall remain here waiting till

he covers my eyes with stars once more.

Karla Bardanza