by Luis Ullán
Now, looking at the blue glass,
we see black crevices spreading slowly,
choking the future through our past.
“No more secret boundaries”, you said,
“you know this won´t last”.
So there won´t be more memories
or beloved cuddles under the sheets,
like those old, tender kisses
when we were little kids.
There won´t be more promises,
no magicians or fake tricks
of eternal love and happiness;
just more tears spilled
between two dead souls teared again.
And you know you can´t face it.
It will never be the same.
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