domingo, 1 de abril de 2018

Poesia (27.6)

the bed in which my restless heart used to sleep

earlier into the night
may your tears ask no permission
and fall free from temper.
darkness may have landed on your hand once,
but gently pour it away,
and the rain no longer shall fall
from your eyes.
leave the wooden heart you once inhabited
aside.
leave it knowing that burnt wood
can no longer serve you as a place to rest you soft body;
step away, child.
may the coming of age bring you,
and your heart along,
the maintenance needed
so the material that supports you truly
is as lasting as your kindness.

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