Read Poem: SYNESTHESIA, by Josimar Morán

I see you
in the cold that curtails my soul
and breaks through the side
of my numbed hope
uselessly waiting for you
in the acrid winter of loneliness
where you left me clinging to your oblivion.

I called you
and your silence has the taste of goodbye
impotent, black, moribund
who escaped from your wounding eyes
that cloudy instant
that I took your hand to hold you
while you got lost
in the feverish scent of nostalgia.

I Caress your memory
and a rare melody emerges
that I had never seen,
is the sound of one “I love you”

that was tattooed in the blood
with the indelible promise
of waiting you forever
in the golden and timid breeze
of a blessed autumn
that inspirits the fire of your return
with scraps of tears
that my hands have woven for you.

The night is sad
and caresses my wound with her lips
that smell like deceit,
’cause knowing that you’re not coming
still brings me your scent
and draw your figure
with the saddest colors of the sky.
Color of an star in your eyes,
full moon smell in your mouth,
heat of heaven on your skin
and in the distance a hidden bright star
screaming your name with light beams
that mimics
the crystalline and crazy laughter
of your hands ruffling my skin
at the dance with my verses
that were falling swift
at the mere sound of your look.

You’re not, you have never been or will be
here with me;
but your essence repeats in my ear
with the force of a volcano
about to eclipse the flight
of a drop of rain in the summer.

You have a white “parfum”
as reveries freshly cut
and a rare voice of repressed sadness,
I know, yes I know,
I have also drunk the sweet poison
of Pride,
intoxicating, hallucinating;
but leaves a hangover of solitudes
impossible to remain silent
because their footprints reflect
the melodious voice of happiness.

Every word has your taste,
empty as the distance between your skin
and my hands,
as the anguish of not seeing your kisses,
as my left hand trying
to inhale the scent of your memory
and sad
as the voice of your lost sight
in the distance of forgetfulness
that never comes
because it is hidden behind the silhouette
of the ghost
dozing on the infinite horizon
of the warm desire
that was born the unlucky day
that I closed my eyes to not feel
the cold kiss of your goodbye
being lost in the senselessness of my destiny…


Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

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