When I loved you more,
I feared your world and the great sun
sealing unknown sacraments.
I couldn't understand the liturgy
of your pale promises.
Unwilling and alone, I embarked.
But the moon failed me when
your loyal deceit swept me into eternity.

For some time
I was within some children's eyes,
I was underneath the sunset heart.
You were the blessed one.

When I loved you more
The breath of the flowers was an anathema
lingering on my skin.
The silent labours of Mother nature was the secret
full of replies.
You absorbed me in your poems,
in your passion.
I was swallowed by your long embrace of pain.
But I longed for all things you wrote me,
you told me, you tattooed in the air,
I liked the dust, the shadows, the storms
before and after your unconsidered words.

Time seemed to be blind.
I was happy.

I should have known your impure metaphors
for the gentle breeze doesn't last forever.
I thought of a butterfly crowning the sky.
I thought of winged creatures when I cried for
my clipped wings.
Those useless wings which lost sense
when you said you would carry me
in your arms.

Things are sick. I am sick.
Snakes creep across my brain.
I drag reptiles.
The past croaks as my pain burns divenely
in the dark.

Love is a slippery creature in a dreadful hole.
Love is a visit from the underworld.

When I loved you more,
the serpent's bite didn't hurt so much
and the poison was less lethal
than it is now.

Karla Bardanza

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