Wednesday, 7 November 2012

It was always in May.
The swallows were crossing the hazy sky,
drawing meaningless circles, as a million sighs.

I was waiting for you at the window,
eating an ice cream.
You used to get home late and tired,
but smiling at me when I started saying:
look, mi amor, they came from Africa,
beyond the equator.

Today I woke up late,
making an effort.
I looked at the swallows and smiled.
They are not the same, I know.
They are never the same.
But I remembered me and you,
being young, when I was not
beyond the equator.

So, this is how feels, I thought.
Then I swallowed the deepness,
with some water and a pill.
Beginning every morning all fucked
was not the plan, I know.
But is the only way I have.

The truth, mi amor, is
that all the births are the same
when you cross the line.

I crossed it.
You know.
I crossed it.

1 comment:

  1. Sounds so blue…
    Sounds so true…
    Sounds so you…

    Lots of kisses