dema
(Sometimes love rescues you from the past,
turn my guts
and shakes the melancholy of the dark days.)
You
do not die
here
inside my heart
You
remain alive, as you have always been,
only
shrouded by the veil of time,
whose
flaps, time to time,
sneakily,
I
lift one
to see
you smiling and jovial.
I
refuse to discard intact and beautiful agendas
which,
because not used,
became
obsolete.
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