under moonlight, the sound of the waves

my days had leaked under my knees, where the waves had wiped out every second

that you forgot in the sight’s infinite – when leaving you left me nothing but a wreath of dry leaves

in the hollowness of my palm I reproduce the lost shape of your embraces, the burning kiss and the delicate cheek

the sun grasps on each stone, each eye and each soul

***

you took the railway station with you, gathered all our memories and put them in the leather suitcase

from where some bone pierces through the zipper drawn after you

***

the Vesper that you brought to meet rests buried in the sea