streets close off
telling work to go home
its role is finished today

white dresses dance in circles
filtered through formal lenses
where naked eyes lose their focus

lips and words fail to meet
and conjure up some magic
breathing in old silence

unmasking beautiful faces
to deliver melancholic confessions
where truths and dreams go their own ways

in the lack of an answer
or waiting for the perfunctory reply
it’s easier to lower ambition

when the chance ceases to exist
when language fit for a letter
is lost in the passage of time

in leaving the thought behind
the almost gasping for air
loneliness proves its burden
the heavy that wants to be comfortable