Dreamless nights -poem

Who will write verses to you now

that I dropped the pen on my best poem?

The night is temperate, the wind is howling

and a single tear runs through my face.

Who will grow wrinkles with you now

that our fate is immutably ephimeral?

The sun is waiting to graze my temples

and remind me that life goes by.

Who will gather dawns with you now

that I took to my winter lair?

The trams are sleeping in their loop,

ready to roar in the early morning.

Who will owe you a garden of flowers

for all those times he clouded your smile

now that I lost all sovereignty

over the strings of your emotions?

The lamp gives out its electric light,

but I wish for a flicker to give me respite

from looking into the darkness

and keeping bad company to myself.

Who will let you go to be free now

that I’ve closed all your doors to me?

I locked the room from outside,

but I forgot to get out.

by Juan.M.S


I'm a writer born in Argentina, but currently living in Poland. I work as an English and French teacher, translator and copywriter.

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