By   Apolinario    Villalobos


In    solitude      you    hear    your    mind

Choked       with    voices   –

Some      gruff,    some       nice

You    are   not   yourself

While    adrift    in   silence

That   seems    to    tear    you    apart.

Clouds    you    see

Even    with   closed    eyes

Wafting   in    the   gentle   breath

You    let    out    with    a   heavy    sigh.

In     solitude     you     see    yourself

With    an   aura    of   colors   –

Some     dense,     some   calm

You    are    not   yourself

While   shrouded     in     hues

Which     seem    to   melt   you   down.

The    breeze    you   feel

Though    with   fingers    numbed

Caressing     your    soul    that    quiver –

But    keep      from      breaking    apart.             


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