Desamor

in castellano •  7 years ago  (edited)

Crisálida perdida,
tu vida creció
quebranto;
Amor le dicen...
Tormento;
has sido martirio.

Te he renunciado,
y no tropezarás conmigo
ya no hay firmamento para ti,
ahogaste cada ensueño.
Mi piel se desaparece
en cada empeño
y mis ojos se consumen,
con el sol.

Ninfa de luchas
yo no soy,
tú no serás.
Por que cuando
la armadura
es hecha de
lágrimas rotas
:
mi alma se crispa,
nada más tocar
el silencio.

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que bonito
feliz jueves amiga