As a soundtrack
For those
Unique chapters
That were broadcasted
In the Marianas Trench
Of my spirit,
You decided melancholic
Melodies.
Subtle sad songs
That without being
The trembler whistle
Of the wind,
Makes me move
In every leaf
That are occupying
The interstellar space
Of my cells.
I am a cosmic tenderized tree.
It should be close the winter.
And I’m wondering
How I will do
That without looking for it
I feel like
A tired eagle
With their mangled wings
To fly over
This gigantic,
Prodigious,
Enormous
Loving exclusion area.
Without feeling this emptiness in my chest
Without vibrating to the rhythm of this
Abandoning sensation.
Until how many suns have I
To sense as a fiord
This open wound
This dug
Abyss
That has left me
Your glacial
Kiss,
The glacier
Of your tongue.
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