marți, 25 mai 2010

Ana

She never had anything
Never had anybody
Sometimes she fooled herself
That everything and everyone
Was not really temporary
The first time her life went epic
Her joy had the sound of a telephone
The next time
She knew better
Her dream had become to elope
Every make-believe that rose
In a room full of people
In a room she knew would empty itself around her
Each time the cholera broke.

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