Sunday, July 09, 2006

my trampa mortal

static of the broken tango record breaks the air
as the dust flows through the silence of forgotten memories

old wax candle flame as if drawn - motionless
torn are the seams of my broken expectations of our love

cold gray sunset - my hand stripped of your touch
pair of unwashed wine glasses on the place where we made love

half burnt photo of our smiles in the ashes
eyes bleeding tears - lips burning in flames of empty kisses

you were but the hiding behind the image of my love
you were but the weakness of my blindness
you were but the beast that fed on the pureness of my touch

you were my trampa mortal

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