LatinosUSA

Along the path we travel
without having known,
that in the magic of the mirror
where we touched with lips and glances
words crumble like stones
roll without knowing where.
A livid wall of silence swallows them up
and they turn into faded oleander dusty,
faded by an anguished wind.
Or maybe they were the dark green of the eyes
the insatiable red of kisses
the only colors that gave us life.
You disdained them painfully
when I wanted to look at you
to the wounds of soul.
Now I follow the lost traces
of the arid abyss
where the mirror lies broken.