I cast my head into dreams,
Forgetting I can flee,
Sketching thy visage ‘n the mist,
Thy fragrance on the sea.

And I shall leap from the glider
To lose myself in the air
As does the distant thunder
In collision with the blare

Of words and habits weary
I keep on walls so white
And damp, within my prison dreary,
Far from any light.

This is not thy place,
This land of rust and lime,
This realm of silent grayness
Tattooed on my wrist with time.

And ‘twixt yellowed pages,
I hear thy name cry out,
Between the pillow and scarves,
Between hell and a route.

And I shall leap from the boat
Into oceans of hours vast
That I’ll waste with the pen
To give my pain a cast.

Then thou dost push me to the brink
Of what seems not real to me,
Leaving me empty ‘neath the link
Of the taste of thy gaze to see.

I have sold my melodies
For countless wars I’ve lost,
Buried with a smile
And an epitaph of thy words embossed.

Marco Delrio

Wars I’ve Lost

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Mail: delriomarco.md@gmail.com