Someone said I wore your face only you could still like that when i closed my eyes /the last song died and the yearning remains.\
Saying i love you much as the storm comes what color of your eyes cling to your face. i took us to the sea so you could look at me while within arms like a group of living and dead old ladies who wish to dance with me.
How he made a grave within the street upon the road to nowhere this body, this corpse a mirror of my beauty of loveliness in the world — how you look inside the mirror more beautiful than ever.
Inside this golden unwashed grave the very teeth inside your mouth could not know how to lie. Hover inside galley nights of sliding seasons of an immense yawn grabbing aspirating horror.
Then we walked across the ‘again’ and every little pebble stumbled, every little thought. Every little secret upon your lips and a drop of tears living life as there’s a God watching how we fumble along the way.
Like a hole.
Inside hell.
:: 03.20.2022 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 