miércoles, 24 de agosto de 2011

Line

Who ask about the way I walk.
The place I hide the night,
just beside the lights.
A doubt
a drop of me left behind.
The line I draw on the ground
while the falling key broke a dish,
world said no.
Down on my knees
I look up to the mirror
and that's not me.
My hands are clean
and my eyes ready to be seen.
I can´t rest my eyes
I can´t stop loving that bright.
I feel my line
I feel it alive.
True space is more wise,
where it all is quiet,

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