I could still shape your thin silhouette in the dark
Your tiny nipples mounted in your small breasts
Your skin shaping your meat less bones that used
To be of my concern:
‘How come your body is just as thick as my arm?’
It’s hard to say when did I loved you
Absolutely not when I first held your hand
for I am more alarmed as the skin of your fingers
Stretched like the bones are about to collapse,
Absolutely not when I first caressed your neck
And smelled the sweat of an animal from the woods,
Absolutely not when you left me without a word
Without a goodbye,
Absolutely not when I sent you all your letters,
All your lies back to your sickly hands
Maybe I loved you
but it didn’t came out bursting
flowing to melt my heart—
The heart cannot trust
What it cannot remember
I might have loved you, but
I have to ask myself, why did I love you?
How? When? Where?
What did I love?
Whom did I love?