 |
| Jorge Aliaga en el Parque de Las Leyendas |
Crumpled Paper
by Jorge Aliaga Cacho
Creased by time
old metal box keeps,
your wee letter
in its sad forgotten bottom.
The letter cries, your voice, your memories:
"You are my water, I can't live without you"
you cried, trembling fingers,
fallacious in each letter.
I come to visit the box from time
to time
I come to recall my memories.
My hands, don't burn and
I unfold the paper that looks
like the grooves
of our bodies.
Yesterday has spoken:
I loved you so much is true,
but how satisfies
oblivion.
You look like a wee folded paper:
wrinkles, avatars
and a shot in your consciousness.
old metal box keeps,
your wee letter
in its sad forgotten bottom.
The letter cries, your voice, your memories:
"You are my water, I can't live without you"
you cried, trembling fingers,
fallacious in each letter.
I come to visit the box from time
to time
I come to recall my memories.
My hands, don't burn and
I unfold the paper that looks
like the grooves
of our bodies.
Yesterday has spoken:
I loved you so much is true,
but how satisfies
oblivion.
You look like a wee folded paper:
wrinkles, avatars
and a shot in your consciousness.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario