What did you get in the mute room, perhaps memories?
a taste of sorrows and distances;
bitter fruit, an old and colorless wine,
kisses laden with silence.

our hands are no longer together
no love, no tender phrases
a heart without beats and dry lips,
nor a table to share in silent nights.

There is no sweet delicacy, there is nothing
not a single glass, not a drink straight from the old bottle,
no sign of that first time of whispers and words.

We are no longer life, nor silence, we are no longer, we are simply not love.
we are not love, the hours go by
and eternity has charged us for our debts.

Thank you very much for stopping by to see and read my post.

Antonio Evies, May 2024

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