Relations die a natural death
when there is nothing in common to talk

Words have abandoned me
And smiles too. I stare on the walls
and at my children. Sullen.

On whom shall I stretch my arms?
And breathe out the fatigue of the day
And sit careless, facing the sea,
counting birds flying west.
For whom shall I rise, a full sky
when the sun sets

Every love is an urge
for a new space,
of fresh conversation.

A female in love with a man is half drowned in incest.
For she looks for that father she never had.



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