I was taking your image with me
from the beginning , so long…..
difficult to talk about you
I know you so “douce”
some ghosts appeared
said their names
but I did not believe
I heard only a slow death
for not being from you
and died in each satisfaction
and died in every word I knew it was not from you
I mistook the game
I spoke of love
and again was just ghosts
because your sweet slow death was over me
over and over
now my ghost love
that i tasted the cold reality
that comes from your stone
i am falling down
and touching your bare neck
again 
