sometimes ...
as an evening that does not return err
weather vanes and the soles broken
walk as children stepping puddles.
sometimes ...
flourishes
sad dreams a life that gallop like
at the tips of the branches,
away from the chessboard
and wait in the waiting
wait to forget.
sometimes ... Heaven only
unshingled
and rounded corners on the sheets, like transient dreams
wounds and reaping Foam-print books.
sometimes ...
words hurt the flowers, their silences
inseparable contradictions
roads and mirrors those fleeting days.
sometimes ...
must unzip the streets,
blow dry tree leaves and the days
leak and its sorrows, sadness
as moles,
until flow in the drains. © www.quieroayudarte.com
