Sale Kinesiology Tapes

If

twist

hours to not feel

and cry face another wall

than my mind,

if you hide in the corners

of the ways in which I walk,

if you sit and look out the windows

where my sleep is not listed.

Maybe it's that you're in another world,

in another forest playing your violin,

singing your song,

music that surrounds and draws

branches whisper: vente.

If you live patting my forehead, leaving

your pebbles

laugh so I would not miss,

if you hear the footsteps of my soul

like a cat your side, if

accommodate your laughter for welcoming me,

if Levites walking Ireland,

if you dream, love, if you dream ...

your hand Maybe it takes me

a whisper of air

and leads me to feel your hand slowly

of wicked witch who knows what there

is only empty space that word and I

is about to invent.

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