All I know now is regret, she follows like a silhouette
along the cobblestone behind me, she has nothing but to say, except to innocently ask, her voice as delicate as glass, "Do you see me when we pass?"
But I continue on my way.
Is this what you call home
as you turn it around.
I know you'll never mean it
You'll never get the hope that you deserve.
It's no surprise that the air keeps you still
on this stable ground that
once shook so lightly.
I am the speaker but what is responsibility?
This I beg of you, build me brick upon brick.
High tides; waves of hypocrisy.
I didn't think the clock struck more than twelve times.
I decided to name her insomnia.
Her teeth show like white seeds in a scarlet fruit
This I must tell you, old friend: fear beauty.
This is meager, this is feeble.
She was only a fiction and my creation.