Clouds in Hell

by Luis Ullán
(Salamanca (Spain))

I told you,
some clouds are always there,
like an infinite breakdown
waiting to be stopped;
like the everlasting sadness
that my soul strokes,
while pouring some teardrops
in the glory of our mourn.

I warned you,
some clues are meant not to be solved,
and some crimes should stay between our hearts;
but you always tried to recall
the last word around our necks,
when I was the hangman
and you were my hell.