I found a clandestine translation
between our hearts…
with coagulated rhythms
of thick lines of Reality…

You and Me…
no more conjugated by a verb,
no more nouns
pleaded to be sung,
no more chorus
to fill the empty line…

My wings cannot fit,
into your story,
and my eyes stopped
describing the sound
of your body…

All you needed
was to conjugate
my 17 syllables…
so, your shadow
will not grow
under my shadow…

© Anca Mihaela Bruma

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