You unchained with your departure
The demons of solitude
That I had trapped
In my interior.
They left for my eyes being waters.
And entered at the same instant
That you crossed the threshold,
The merciless demons
Of melancholy.
They entered through my pupils being salt.
And was drained from my lachrymal
The cloud of sadness
That I had housed
As beam in my eye.
My pupils
Were processed waters
With taste of salt,
The recipient’s containers
Of this vast sea
That drowns me the senses
And makes me complain
That already,
No matter how much I want it,
You won't be besides me.
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