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…anymore
I remember the touch of her hands.
In her white and indulgent hands,
tenderness breathed softly,
like a bird falling asleep under a benevolent moon.
In her white and indulgent hands,
my hands were two ice cubes melting.You can never let go of the silent procession of those hands,
which tracks your steps with the patience of a hunter.
The joy sometimes will gently kiss your eyelids,
but that joy will be absent at once.
Instead you´ll see a comedian,
that will confuse you with faces of euphoria.
You do not know who you are anymore.(Source: lebrau)