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