street birds reverse

detached

 from error ways 

Paul Éluard, 1951

get rise on my eyelids

your hear interweaved in mine

shape of my hands

color of my eyes you absorbed

dissolved in my shadow

like a stone thrown into the sky

she always has her eyes open

and do not let me sleep

she dreams in broad daylight

it makes me laugh

make the suns evaporate

make me laugh, cry and laugh

speechless air i breathe