I smelt leaves being cremated,
reminding me of your funeral
that caused harsh residues to escape
from my soul's windows,
smearing the pain of your memory
dulling the malaise of starvation
A final release, I was hoping
still, I find myself
switching the lights on in daylight
even now I need to feel your touch
and hear the little boy crying,
for what was never more
than a naked dream
clothed in a foreign language.
Gravity's hypocrisy of justice.