A Poem for Abril on the day of the poets

Weak, a soft and timid man. 

Even though I had created a lofty expectation of who I want to be. 

Those aches are all the same and I see my soul floating to its end. 

I guess I write you… 

my target, 

my animosity, 

my parcel, 

my eyes. 

I have to behave myself I can’t send her another thing for she may grow weary. 

She may strike me down like she had before. 

Tearing me from limb to heart 

Placing my ego neatly into the dimness of tomorrow. 

I see her in my plans 

I pray to the god I’d forgotten 

To shrink the distance in between us, 

A burden that is marred by sorrow…

"You pinned me with your black sphere eyes
You know that all the rope's untied
I was only for to die beside
" - Bon Iver