This is the recent history,
with a scent of disagreement,
a desolate bed,
with sheets color indifference,
against one side of the room,
forgotten about a hotel.
The badly painted walls,
from an ordinary ocher
a plagiarized Cezanne,
as part of the landscape,
and a ceiling fan,
in endless slow motion.
She would have preferred a bar,
to disguise the disappointments,
he, supposed that naked,
I would scare away tomorrow's
ghosts,
she gave in knowing,
that there was no decision to
make.
Only two bodies without words,
looking just towards the past,
the bitter breath,
the curtains hanging from the
boredom,
and two hours of sleep time,
It seemed never to wake up.
She left first,
on a journey to a new stage in
his life,
without even slamming the door,
as if he had not gone to say
goodbye,
He filled his backpack with
memories,
and he waited a taxi for help,
that will take him close to the
first day,
that he once crossed it with
her.
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