YOUR CARESSES

YOUR CARESSES


Hands who touched my face
In intense pallor; were killed
Opening of the past old doors
Leaving my way so exposed,
How's living there decomposed
And it certainly is not you
Not even in turbid hours, routes, pies
Finally rekindling both disgust.
A couple of misdirection’s that faced
Death merely sown
leaving behind any signal
what we thought of freedom
and now that this world will destroy
what’s left of us, I drink the final.

MARCOS LOURES