Poem: Thy wounds

Unluckybolte

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Thy wounds

My heart, speaks to thee,
Calmness be the medium,
Silence to its way in thy heart,
Let it elaborate me in depth,
How much love this heart holds,
And holds the sorrows of departure,
Departing the time,
The soul that breathed with thee,
The body uselessly wondered,
In thy remembrance it died,
Kept in the street, the heart,
Yet ignored by the passers,
Thy wounds, now speak,
And shall make it free of hope,
Let it die, harsh or happily!
Let it die and let it die!
 
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