I am not

And I write in lies, because I no longer love anyone, nor do I have the memories,

I only have the echoes of memories and that's what I tell,

the way you did not kiss me and you did not love me

what I'm talking about are shadows in the sunlight

and of that I build my life,

because of what I know, I do not know how to talk about the

dry blood between the nails

and bruises on the lips

so I write of what my hands can manipulate

and what always ends in the three letters that form the same word

in different forms

and with that I get the followers who understand the pain of a lost love and an unrequited love

my ghost game is evil, I speak of them with pains and poisons

but the truth is that I no longer know their names, nor the feelings I had hidden in my chest

the truth is that I'm in a room with words too fast

and a need to write that compares with that of an addict,

with the need to live and breathe

because if I don’t write, I'm not

And if I am not, who am I?

And time for headaches I do not have

because the sand escapes between the fingers

And goodbye my dear because I lost the thread of the words with which I wanted to make you understand the tangled it is to live a life without feelings to explain freely and easily.

T.M.