I examine you in the faces with a tired look; in the desolate streets, I am resentful. A narrative of urban haunting, where memories of a past love linger in every corner, scent, and silence of the city.
I examine you in the faces with a tired look; in the desolate streets, I am resentful.
I see you at the turn of every corner, I chase you in my times, I look for you as if you were a remedy.
I think of you in places where you once were. I touch you, I feel you with every breath.
This city smells like you, it is cornered by your perfume. It is a victim of your ambiguity, a servant of your light, a slave to your passage, and owner of your silence.
With a sinister course, you charge against my most sensitive foundations.
Every block I walk is a stretch of my past, of my near future, and of my most vivid nightmares.
Your eyes still speak to me. And, determined to hurt me, they tell me your truths.
Your cry, as delicate as your smile, also speaks. And I feel how my life goes with your words, how your lies are buried in my soul, how your brushstrokes devastate this canvas leaving me with almost nothing.
How much poverty there is in my solitude. And how many virtues I found in it over time.
You never left. And so, my exile was nothing more than a pretext to flee from this horrendous city.
It tormented me so much that it no longer lets me fly. I don’t even try. I just surrender, marked by my thoughts.
I invent sounds carried into song. I dream of you, and I am frightened in every night of tears.
I am still internally yours, even naked, even so dark.
You swept away everything. I perceived you as smoke. You left marked footprints that other glances erased.
Involuntary anesthesia for unnecessary pain. Sensations accustomed to imaginary pains.
Vulnerable to your smile, I sank into those footprints. Now erased, only memories of superficial moments remain, absurd recollections, banal instants.