The time will never please an old lover.
The glow of her eyes, the odor of her skin after a heavy rain, the broken tears consumed in a wilderness of sentiments, and the conflict to love once more.
The mortal elements won't satisfy an old soul. I am a hungry black hole, a ghoul from a faraway kingdom, and a storm of disordered desires.
You walked, transparent to many, exposed. Strange weathers possessed you; you became winter and summer at the same time.
All your naive lovers fell from your sturdy branches, the soil turned into a massacre of blood and pain.
Beloved, I will wait for your spring to flourish, I hold loads of awareness. You need me to keep your hands.

artwork by Marcela Bolivar