It was never moon;
But a remembrance of the moon, and the silver of the moonlight on your eyes;
Heaven without heaven; observe how the earth will plunge you, getting broad with all
the truths that you don’t admit (and nothing will be abdicated); yes, I am your dark
chaos, suture at the door that closes with the gust and your whisper, gale in the plural
(this other classification that you give to your life: alone laying down with several men);
The sunset loosens, grants victims, the leaf and the fruit that fall;
I return to you breaking this ice, a sign of the kiss that will come,
and it shall be to you as a tear, as ash, as nothing that can not change your fiery
stubbornness; one hour after the bright sigh we’ll feel our shadows parting.
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