These verses call letters
known rhymes and charms.
not know the verses that the soul escapes
writing letters in the place of tears.
not understand my pen measures
is magnified when you fly and hopes that a writer
really warm up my virginity deflowering
pulse
hidden in the disengage of syllables, does not understand the artist
that if one page is full of stars has already
bleeding the soul and the pupils
remain dry.
pardon the boldness of innocence
truncated verse, is the flutter of butterflies
hurried on his forehead.
What anyone saying "no you are a poet!"
Enter the embers of my chest!
There lies my best poem.
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