Be a hug for me
that my cries could calm in its cradle...

One cannot fathom
things that are too obvious...

What a hug-less night!
what infectious cruelty...

Roses are countless
so as the pages of this...

I love and you leave
Then...

To go on going somewhere,
and that’s...

A plastic rose last
forever for it is dead...

The shrine of loneliness
the involuntary prison of choice...

The dawns of towns are
empowered by the shadows...

Who is this guy, hiding in me,
who is so drowned in himself...

Ticktock-ticktock
thus said the mockingbird of a clock...

I wrote millions of poems for this little rose
and they still are not enough...