Friday, June 05, 2009

Elia Casillas, Piltriquitrón


Elia Casillas

My expression shone at the moment which you took the hand, and taking me by the world, I fell in the magic of your goblin. Your eyes alternated the dye in each valley, your shady form, and I in your mantle. Protected in a sky that was not mine, the Blue River to the bottom, envied our connection... The bonfire struck our duel; we knew that the last stage came. I could not say I love you and although you tightened to me, I felt your distance finding me with silence. Impossible to open my lips, I contemplated your chest feeling to me hurt by absences that cracked my flank. I kept the moment, in which a flame came to illuminate your bohemian face, bottling it in my enigmas, closed the heart. Today I know that I take to you, is only to look for in the deep thing for to love you next to rain, near the clouds that cover the feet with the mountain, there where we knew ourselves, protected in you, without affecting nothing to us. In my fantasy, radiating arose in your stories went of surprise in surprise; suddenly, in fight with a wild boar or gallery of art defending your clothes of vague. I have a cold face to walk my courses you said on which they do not understand the difference to belong to another community. We took a madness signal, impossible for the ordinary. Only you can contemplate my spirit, who is like you. Prey in your words, joked in short whiles, the time diminished and good bye in watching cruel prepared the hand. Then, the cold came; obstinate to you I did not want to go to the suitcases, nor to the train of my reality. I closed the eyes. I could not emigrate; disentanglement I left you marched along.

Navojoa Sonora. Julio 5 of 2001..

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