(4 verses)
You and your immaculate persona,
veiled by a silence that no one complains about,
a worn-out icon of impossible purity,
still sharp as antique glass.
(6 verses)
You and the witch that inhabits your heart,
cold as fire that doesn’t touch the skin,
a wound that refuses to close,
a mirror that only reflects what’s missing,
a laugh that cuts more than it consoles,
a spell that never acknowledges itself as a spell.
(4 verses)
You and your gray presence,
a fog that knows too much,
a shadow that passes without asking permission,
but leaves the ground more fragile.
(6 verses)
They come like a frenzied wind,
these languid and dangerous figures,
they bring the perfume of the almost-said,
the gesture that threatens without touching,
the promise of a portable abyss,
the tenderness that bites from within.
(4 verses)
They cut our skin without a blade,
only with the idea of themselves,
a touch that never comes to exist,
but it marks us like hot iron.
(6 verses)
They are shadows that have learned to speak,
and always speak too late,
when we are already inside their name,
when we have already yielded to their crooked step,
when we have already confused danger with beauty,
and beauty with that which undoes us.
(4 verses)
And they pass, they always pass,
as if the world were theirs,
as if we were only an echo,
a rumor that does not deserve permanence.
(6 verses)
But they remain, even when they leave,
like luminous dust in the lungs,
like a rite we didn’t ask for,
like a map we don’t know how to read,
like the memory of the wind that tears,
and yet teaches us to breathe.
wow dearest Par this is deep those damn witchy entities never sure of their purpose grear write ❤️
For sure never sure of their purpose… Witches.
Brilliantly penned, PAR. This is a truly amazing write my friend, always love the depth of your work brother. Appreciate you.
Damian
Love you, my friend!
So many awesome lines, wrapped together into a solid poem. It is truly art, Paulo. Your writes are always intriguing to me.
thanks, my dear friend.