Yesterday the commotion was as thick as
a tree running
dizzily into the disaster
And we no longer cry. We pass
without the most accurate appeal
deciding us
Your monogram appears on the shirts .
Your hand sees it in the night skies
knows there's a fiery
key somewhere
My sadness has no visible expression
as when the rain stops
on the fleeting gift of our blood
that today soaks the earth
Such is the order within us
that a musty odor leaves our mouths
and a cobweb interrupts the gaze
that enveloped you in vain.
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