Tardes negras

Tardes negras


The angels are calling,
whispering your name as a pray,
believing that like this, everything would be different.
Here I am, and you aren't here;
between picture frames and elevator doors,
I fight the silence that erodes me from within.
As much as you hate me, I'll be here, staying, waiting...
In dark afternoons, when there's no time or space
capable to understand that the life hurts so bad without
you with me.




Y.
23:53hs.
15/11/2019.