old poem
So there you are
Unrestrained by your suffered stare in your mirror
free from all the black and white seconds
There you are singing silver sunsets to your demons
so they can finally dress up as glittered angels
It's all so beautifully slow
Silence finally becomes your lover
and your God...
Your God writes new bibles
full of lustful miracles
for the repented vampires in your heart
for your unloved lips
and your virgin shadows
So here I am
denied from my love poems
with the words "Queen of yearners"
tattooed on my forehead
doomed to hug myself
whenever I doubt the love in my kisses
doomed to cry while I try to make love
to all these sedated lovers
It seems as if all this
is meant to be like this for no reason
you, ready to be loved as a new born Venus
And me, ready to grow old
As a Juliette full of doubts
it makes sense
if you believe in absurd love paintings
or in a heartless cupid
always complicating our heart beats....