Blinds and deafs

On the grave of our spells moans the pain of our dead bodies. Dark and firm as the liana which embraces. In the multiple and long-lived arms. Tearing away in our flesh scraps putrefied by this fate. She was killed. She embodies this liabilities. More dead than alive. Flirting with the banks of the infinity. With for epitaph of the words fat. In charge of the rancid smell of our sins. Engraved in the stone of the two-edged sword of our infirmities. Aligning itself one by one to remind. That there is more to forget that to forgive. I lock of hair. You grope. In the hot black of our evenings. Where walk two by two our regrets. Without mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to resuscitate them. Our skeletons intertwined to protect itself. Of the cold which we do not feel any more. Of these suns which we do not see any more. We blind and deaf for ever.