There were the bubbles
that are born when someone
open up a can of coke
but then
I looked at you
and you were crying,
mumbling an excuse,
a "sorry I was really sad too"
a "I don't know why I did that".
But it's always too late,
there is no bubbles now
just the liquid coke, without gas
you know that noboby likes it like that,
and I'm also deaf,
for all your words and sounds
I just watch you, like far far away,
like if I were the bubble
that have not born yet,
and I pray for the can, I want it
to be impossible to open,
because I like the efervescence of the begining
but I'm terrified of the final taste.