Helplessness

There’s too much s
in one word
to convey your loss of hope

All the letters get caught in your gullet,
on the tip of your tongue,
between your teeth

I have already lost all hope
of hear sweet, soft words
coming out of you

and now I have to choose
between these rough sounds
or the bitter,
— hard to swallow —
silence

untitle

I try to remember
the details
of those warm golden days
with our salty skin

the sea chanting
the laughter singing
the fulfilment within

as was a child I could not foresee
that all these happy days
sometime in the future
would mean
that I had a lot to lose
and a lot to miss

stillborn

It was not worth
keep licking my own wounds
holding the cut raw
waiting for a trial

there is no trial
no way to judge
that I did what I did
wishing that all that would be a little swerve on our path

My hope is the slave of my memories
the bastard son of my delirious dreams
who was birth
violently
and ripped off me