Today I have written some lines,
for instance; the city was covered
of rain.
the dark windows of the buildings
white as open eyes
of a ghost town.
I think it was the last rain
that the morning sun snatched from us
an icy wind walks through the streets
hugging us in november,
I take refuge in the paper city,
That's what I call my notebook, it has streets
narrow with blue borders, drawing
churches, markets, coloring
fruits, birds and silhouettes
of the people in the shadows
of the eaves.
The floating dock swaying
on the green piles of moss
the passengers embracing the distances,
the taste of kisses on the palate
of the journey, the chemistry of love
and of the desire that leaves and that stays.
I embrace the loneliness of this afternoon
to the morbid kiss of a silence
What do I imagine from your mouth?
Time passes on the edge
of a line, where I haven't finished yet
a verse.
I want to draw your smile with words
And I can't find another word
that a rose opening its petals
wet with dew
Today I have written some lines
lost in paper town
I enter through the door of the mirror.
between bodies and faces that inhabit it
A labyrinth leads me to a park
where a chess player waits
the opponent that is me
... the one with the white pieces that starts
the game, while time unfolds
its wings in the universe of memory.