Now, unarmed

you let the cold evening passing through yourself.

I don't want to let you alone

while your fear goes up the light.


I'll succeed in feeling your new sweet caresses,

now cold and soft as pure snow.

I'll succeed in listening to your breaths

without any pulsing heartbeats any longer.


But despair is keeping me here,

denying me any escape.

Down there, among the paper houses,

there's prophet laying human sacrifices.


I'll manage to perceive your smiles with no regrets,

re-flowering like roses in May.

I'll succeed in feeling your words

coming down like September dew drops.


As for myself there's no surprise,

just the wish not to see any more

with these eyes which uselessly tried

to adapt themselves.


I will be staring after you, always, every day.

My tears are for you

and for those whom were able

to die without forgetting.


Every word of us

is close to become just a memory.