REVISTA HOSTOSIANA
the melody traveling with time it was the minute gained in your arms between your legs and that musical language interweaving me into the ghostly night I was moved by the fullness of your sepia toned lips your reflection I no longer knew if what resounded was from within or without between two worlds I would dream of you and then to you I would return for you I’d say goodbye I did not always hold life between my fingers but that’s how it is I believe it I remember it or perhaps just the dream discovering myself severed from you from your existence grief is not always a solemn cantata I tie myself to your cords to your clefs harmonic but also dissonant my divine specter that departed and is barely a plume of white smoke a black dot in the middle of my chest where the bullet entered the one of love that has not left.
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