Come with me, I said, and no one knew
where, or how my pain throbbed,
no carnations or barcaroles for me,
only a wound that love had opened.
I said it again: Come with me, as if I were dying,
and no one saw the moon that bled in my mouth
or the blood that rose into the silence.
O Love, now we can forget the star that has such thorns!
That is why when I heard your voice repeat
Come with me, it was as if you had let loose
the grief, the love, the fury of a cork-trapped wine
Pablo Neruda
Branden Bull
2024-03-21 04:07:28 +0000 UTCBeepboop
2024-03-11 02:03:13 +0000 UTCLisra
2024-03-10 22:24:18 +0000 UTCLargemovingtorb
2024-03-10 19:42:16 +0000 UTCLyssandia
2024-03-10 18:05:32 +0000 UTC