Fields of blooming

I used to remember

the exact path of glory of his lips

the complete way of a mouth

full of promises

poetry and heat.

Thoughts made of silk

embraced all his shapes,

both of my hands

used to trace

the entire figure

completely honored.

My knees used to feel

the burn of stone with hope

artistic hope.

Thought this hands were able

to sculpt a masterpiece.

I failed

did fall

did broke.

There are no longer

any artistic expectations,

I’m surprised I can’t recall

any frame of that face

I worshiped the first minute of my days

the face that used to calm me down

and drove me through sleep.

The sun has set

it’s been set long time ago

that light had to descend

I live and breathe and taste

all the shades of that simulated death.

I laugh now

and there’s no dissembled pain

all I wanted to share was:

this smile, these words and

this fist full of hope left

because I thought you could simply take it

or understand.