Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

-Anais Nin-

As she disappeared into the moonless black,
his heart swallowed his blame, deserting his
(he was losing himself in himself again)

Staring at the perpetual night,
he saw his flesh crying for her languid eyes,
bleeding his emptness, an unobservalble emptness.

He felt his body speaking:the unknown language
of love.He remembered he was human too.

Life murmured an absolute truth:
metaphors of desire awakened, stirring
that exiled moment while his shadow
pined away, reminding him of all those
words he wasn't strong enough to say.

Her eyes
Oh! Her eyes renewed him.
Her breast
Oh!Her breast fed his Sun and Mars.

He walked straight toward the rain
and got the first bus he saw to her immaculate
feelings and for the very first time, he heard
his hesitant words contracting his chest.

Karla Bardanza



  1. A very descriptive and heart felt piece.

  2. What a vision of a lover who pains over the lack of expression to his lover. And then wanting to embrace them. Beautiful.