When this love pulsed
in my eardrum, I closed my
fists, pretending not to hear it.
I was wearing my dark chainmail:
the steel of my days.
I remember I built walls fast around my soul,
sharpened swords, lit bonfires
I rememeber I put on my best helmet.
I was myself alone.
I looked at him behind the
towers, preparing catapults,
strategies, apologies.
I squinted at him
from the distant hills:
immesurable voids in my warlike soul.
For a moment I dreamed.
The invasion was calm and
Easy.
I surrendered without reason,
unintentionally.
When I turned to
the south, there you were.
I accepted your treaties,
your divisions, your orders,
your conclusions.
The north wind said nothing:
I stopped fighting againt me and
against poetry.
I became a slave, a servant and lover.
I was another star in your arrogant sky.
When you stole everything I allowed,
you left to conquer another
silent land.
in my eardrum, I closed my
fists, pretending not to hear it.
I was wearing my dark chainmail:
the steel of my days.
I remember I built walls fast around my soul,
sharpened swords, lit bonfires
I rememeber I put on my best helmet.
I was myself alone.
I looked at him behind the
towers, preparing catapults,
strategies, apologies.
I squinted at him
from the distant hills:
immesurable voids in my warlike soul.
For a moment I dreamed.
The invasion was calm and
Easy.
I surrendered without reason,
unintentionally.
When I turned to
the south, there you were.
I accepted your treaties,
your divisions, your orders,
your conclusions.
The north wind said nothing:
I stopped fighting againt me and
against poetry.
I became a slave, a servant and lover.
I was another star in your arrogant sky.
When you stole everything I allowed,
you left to conquer another
silent land.
My castle was burned,
my dragon was cursed,
my gardens were trampled.
Little remains of those days
in your veins My Beloved.
I Look at my ruins
and I do not know how to pray and
beg for redemption.
There is no salvation:
what kind of love is this that knows
no peace?
Love opened my numb body.
However, by irony of fate it
was already dead when it embraced me.
Now I wander blindly: eyes seared
by passion.
And I can't feel my skin nor
this hoarse betrayal.
And I do not feel anything nor ask
whose fault it was.
Now I walk barefoot through
fierce paths ,keeping the thorns
of my black roses, grinding the pallid petals
of yesterday, pledging my frightened soul
as the wind blows my memories.
Karla Bardanza
This is Stellar, EXALT! One of the strongest love poems to date that you have written... beautiful my flower.
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