I’ve come to talk to you eye to eye.
Now that we’re alone
the blood boils in my veins.

I could be an animal cornered by silence
but like any flesh and blood man
my gaze points at your two eyes
my mouth barks on your chest.

You remind me of a fire that burns out in the forest,
of the dust on the tracks behind cars,
of the ring left by glasses on the bar
like signs of destiny.

I try to make things go back to how they were.
But your words are a volcano that awakens
after so many years asleep.

Things are not as they seem.
I look at you eye to eye
and what does it matter if I’m a poor poet
and you’re the one who believes in miracles.

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