the night falls, and so does her.
she gets into bed and crawls straight to the sheets
on, between, under
the thin layer of the heavy
solitude,
hearing the defeaning sound of
silence;
hearing the whispers of life leaving.

the absence of light
as a state of comfort
was very sugesting,
she wished it to stay
for good
calm, timid, flirtatious, unreadable
so
inviting.

the rain wakes her up abruptly
form her desire
from her plans to fulfill dreams...
rain drops hope
because it doesn't want to stay up there,
it has to flush
creating
stalled liquid
and a kid splash it
barefoot, naive
rushed about tomorrow
not knowing that it means.
smash to dissipate
craked, shattered,
water becoming future,
water becoming nothing.

a soft but noticeable sneeze of wind
pass throught the window
not asking for permission
but convinced about
cover everything
sinking into every inch of space.
there comes sharp
the smell of old wood and fresh black dirt.
dawn is not allowed,
not this thime.

death sits in the corner of the bed
to read a story
about Mara,
and then
oblivion kisses her goodnight.