Having loved

Love does not die later
of having loved
Can't stop listening afterwards
having heard

Is life a shelter
without climate you can't
lose or detach violent

Faces stay forever
the smile
the mouth moving
without saying anything

It is life, the love that does not die
and remains almost intact
dirty perhaps due to the clumsiness of time

A memory is life
a fragment of glass
an open window through which they flee
the pulses and the true looks

Blog Poetry

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A veces leo.

Magician

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