I think about the wounds I have taken,
How much I have been hurt,
A burning within,
Flames growing inside me that I could not put out,
How much they burned my throat,
My lips dried with thirst,
Food in front of me that I did not touch,
My body trembling without being cold.
Every day I walked a path,
I wanted to throw myself into the middle of the road,
To just remain there,
I wanted to scream,
At the top of my lungs,
Echoing through the earth and the sky.
The wetness on my cheeks,
Was trying to hold back that urge,
What you did to me,
What I did to you,
Everything and everyone,
While loving this much,
I drew countless lines between us.
But I never killed that love,
Maybe that is why I'm so still,
Maybe that is why there are waves
forming in my depths,
I never formed long sentences.
I just wanted everything to be complete,
Those sentences are still unfinished,
I'm waiting for the white dove,
That will come from behind the trees,
The white dove that comes every two weeks.