Martas poems:

I am waiting in shadows filled with the same words and the same gestures. I wait with empty hands orphaned from the soft touch of yours... while you dwell in that far away land that exclusively exists in your mind I wait here, touching mirrors, a fugitive from time suddenly thrown in a world where nothing is mine, alone walking where the snow is black, with my night ration and my mourning watch marking the minutes that I am on the run escaping from the sadness of knowing you are gone, I keep... Sign in to see full entry.