CONFESSION
I’m as vulnerable as the snowing.
I can be enchanted by a street, a tiny noise,
unexpected silence.
The gaze of a passer-by can be mesmerizing,
the thin smoke forest of the sunset.
All spirits can be enchanting,
lights and sights,
thousands of mistakes,
wingless flights,
damnation and laughter,
mist horses of silent nights.
I can’t avoid the danger,
they are waiting for me everywhere,
in guilt, in white
in the shadow, in infinity,
I can’t avoid them, my darling.
Maybe they’re wearing your face.
Libros Libertad 