When what remains is the wound of love.
burning memory.
skin itches When you have touched.
When hunger went with his luggage
and no tears come to heal.
is when you wonder,
why love, be loved?
What touch and be touched
by hands as soon
become claws,
as soon caught
as pushing a vacuum?
and escape insomnia, the devel.
tremors are going away the match.
the passions are undone sweats
as soon evaporate into the wind.
while feeling, not believing, your wounds,
all that was left as a souvenir.
Stabbing remains of a meeting
will try to cover their tracks
road pushing you forward.
I know, I do not want to go, you're tired
of love that comes, strikes and passes.
faith becomes more scarce,
as uncertain may be the route.
Certainty overwhelm you at this time,
partner is and what side?
is a bitter aftertaste of the given.
call him your pain and agony.
You will get up tomorrow, alone,
to pace again
and will again, inevitably,
love, perhaps the wound ...
another brand that says
how you loved.
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