THE
VOICE
Fractured poet
at the bottom of the sixth verse,
in the core of a tear
that throng and hold
cradled between the eyelid
and a fleeting wink,
the resigned gesture
awaited desire
to get me on track
the heart,
and it is playing the swing
hesitation
the voice that I confused
why it entertained me
the voice between mosses
no longer harbors,
the voice of folly,
as unheeded
the traces of my feet
cold velvet ...
at the bottom of the sixth verse,
in the core of a tear
that throng and hold
cradled between the eyelid
and a fleeting wink,
the resigned gesture
awaited desire
to get me on track
the heart,
and it is playing the swing
hesitation
the voice that I confused
why it entertained me
the voice between mosses
no longer harbors,
the voice of folly,
as unheeded
the traces of my feet
cold velvet ...
-© Carmina Ral 2016
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