Of Street Lamps

You are the messenger

who feeds me

the first extinct star at sunrise.

You are the pain

that brings green tears

tangled in my eyelashes.

 

I believe in a premature twilight

which, instead of street lamps,

ignites deserted hearts.

 

I still wander between

the window and the door,

on the wall I can see the gate

to God's garden.

I love your loneliness, I wear

a smile that you bought me

on the occasion of my

first day of maturity.