Where is the Water?

A hushed whisper calls me

To the place where grass never grows,

And the waters have dessicated,

With all the lies my mouth has given.

I am a lie.

Not dark, nor white.

But, free from its own regrets.

As I walk on this dead land,

I feel the wind on my face:

What else can I give to this world, this empty void?


Everything that I am has faded.

All that remains is memory.

On my last step,

I recall her smile...

The one thing that deserves truth.


- Alejandro Bonfil

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SpiltMilk's picture

I really liked this. As I

I really liked this. As I read it, I actually imagined all of it happening. I imagined you walking on cracked, desert grounds with a slight breeze hitting you. Hahaha :) anyway, I like this a lot. As I do all of your poems :)