"Here I am again
Taking the course of my verses
Building
echoes words without writing a voice that has not died"
Life when my feet are drawing marks on the barren land of forgetfulness, time widens even more his mouth and swallows every sip every illusion in agony, every inch of your touch, each waiting for your absences.
life when my hands trying to mold your face into a canvas
your smile becomes a grimace, your gaze is lost in
horizons and your kisses to my kisses do not come. Amada
life, loving side of my wounds, home to a cherished past when he forgot that you had forgotten. Yes
life, you're circle of love and lovers, Aged tears by memories, sad dream of poetry.
My soul is tired, whispering that night so many times he ate every hope of love, each secret between passions, each wasted a thousand kisses ... Be silent poetry
... come hold me in your womb Can not you see I'm still a child and I have fear?
These crying Do you realize?
If every tear you cry Then in verse
become the poem that was born
that tear is the message of the poet and life. Alma Cervantes
July 14, 2010
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