at the foot of the mountain blocking the sun, words freeze in the violence of the world.
let my will melt in the coldness of August, shake off the dust of regret when I open the window, looking at you through the rain, a little sad, like tears on the window.
*posted for the first time in August 2019, reviewed in July 2020
beyond the wall through the evening transparencies and stories are floating for sure,
time goes by and leaves traces
we would speak between the lines, little words from time to time, sounds that would mark the step, then a screaming silence, coming down the hill, we would remember the good old days.