My heart like a snake
was stripped of his skin
and hold between my fingers
full of wounds and honey.
Thoughts
nested in your wrinkles, where are they?
Where the roses that smelled
of Jesus Christ and Satan?
Poor envelope that oppressed my star
fantastic! Grey parchment
sore
of what I wanted and now I love you more.
I see you in embryos of science, poetry
mummies and skeletons of ancient
my innocence and my romantic secrets.
you hang on the walls of my museum
sentimental
close to the cold and dark
lilies of my sleeping bad?
O you put above the pines
book
painful of my love because you know the trill of the nightingale
dawn?
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