Crevices

by Luis Ullán
(Salamanca (Spain))

Now, looking at the blue glass,
we see black crevices spreading slowly,
choking the future through our past.
“No more secret boundaries”, you said,
“you know this won´t last”.

So there won´t be more memories
or beloved cuddles under the sheets,
like those old, tender kisses
when we were little kids.

There won´t be more promises,
no magicians or fake tricks
of eternal love and happiness;
just more tears spilled
between two dead souls teared again.
And you know you can´t face it.
It will never be the same.