I miss you. A confession.
I miss you, I miss your voice,
that sweet voice of yours!
The one I felt in love with.
There must be a reason
For our encounter...
a mystery,
A tomb of an ancient Queen,
Waiting to be discover.
You...
Without your presence nothing makes sense,
Why do you have to be so obedient?
Why not follow your intuition?
I want to phone you, but my Ego doesn’t let me!
He gets in the way, every time I try.
I confess,
You still remain my Muse...untouched
Still, our love stealth,
you are the Inspiration for this ink.
This poem is for you!
But I doubt you will ever read it.
And if you find it...probably not finish it,
a lot of probabilities, misconceptions and
Misunderstanding surrounding our short
History.
We painted our Masterpiece in Blood.
Our blood!
With lashes on a canvas, black and white,
Our hands created a shadow and a girl,
who was trying to find herself in the shadow
And the shadow trying to find himself in the
Girl, both destined to be together.
They understand each other,
They communicate in the same language...
Poetry.
They burned the Masterpiece after completed,
watching it burn In cold silence,
6 black sparrows telling all their secrets
To the night, under the full Moon and the seas,
Pulling and pushing...the trees were the only witness
Of their love ritual, both magnets of desire,
Two forces, attracting and repelling...
Two lost souls finding each other, in each other.
Harold Rivas
27/12/17
10:00-10:36.
