The ghosts have left my house
the window reflects the old and agonizing oak tree
cobwebs are crawling from within as fine ivies
and everything becomes plant that takes root in my heart
pain that is rolling in my bed
knot that I tie
love that I break
love that bursts into loud waves
love that can no longer be love.
Resigned to live without time
I weave a chrysalis to protect myself from me.
© 2011 Rosa Silverio
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