Listening to the sound of the waves,
I can hear your voice through texts.
Soothing sound of care,
a gentle reminder-
what’s ahead is danger.
then a song from a fruit pigeon.
It sounded so spooky
In an early morning time.
Holding my hopes
with this mechanically managed item,
my happiness is in the verge of dying
the moment you started not to ring.
Saving myself from drowning
in the waves of unwavering darkness,
the sound of the bell
is a guillotine falling
from a beauty’s neck.
Now I’m making a fool out of me,
waiting for a rainbow at dusk
with the wind blowing on my face
and my feet buried at the sand;
still saving myself from the hold I didn’t grasp
and loud ringing who took my life
just by listening to the story us.