Tied




Remain the ballast
Ever, restored as a compelled vow of constancy
Present like the nape of the neck turned towards the wrong side
Towards the leaded center of all the vacant projects
The bottom, the permanency of the tie
An established fact almost sweet in its durability
Almost ordinary of so much tenacity along its ethereal sadness
This endless experience of this one, loved above my reason
Without fail, failed.


June 2015