Bitter love

People whose love was never answered turn bitter, they are the tick of the cheek tooth and the breaking of the teeth that give the cut to the fangs. Those who leave their hearts in their touch and always end up becoming a bullet that blooms in the sternum of those who shoot - the sadness is that they bloom decades later and they are never the shooter -

They become surly, in the definition of the word, that touching their skin is like taking wood to sand and expecting a romance from that connection. 

It is to look with a desire that is translated into shouts from churches but to receive the electrocution of the unfortunate.

Those who love without protection, those who send every letter, give the hug that lasts a few more seconds, who smile with the simple saying of choose me me me. 

They turn to broken glass, they turn to midnight sighs and the ink of every bad writer.

They are what remains when they say I love you and they only get the silence that withers their bones and make their soul disappears. 

They are no longer what one saw and are now only poisoned words in a reality that is no longer spoken in the early hours of the morning.

And they are branded as prisoners of war who are lost in transit and left in exile where everyone forgets that they ever existed.

Ta.