SoulReserve

Passé

I scratch the surface
of your arid skin
I try to feel, my fingertips
graze,
inches of you.
Drying as if
on a clothesline,
the tears leave evaporating
at the stroke
of the sun.
You are pale, why?
What have you lost?
Where did you fall?
And break
inside this bag
of brittle hide…
There are rattling
pieces
of hopes and dreams,
thoughts that chafe, from within
I am made
to shiver
with regret for having been
happy
yesterday
while, maybe, you were
here
still…
waiting for me.

© SoulReserve 2016

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