Morning arrived
Wearing the wrong season.
The trees stood closer
Than I remembered.
Someone had folded
The distance between us
Like an old map
No longer leading anywhere.
You asked nothing.
I answered anyway.
There are streets
That keep your footsteps
Long after they forget your name.
I have walked them all.
Every window
Looked as though
Someone had just left.
Or never came.
Truth is a strange country.
It waits for no one.
It simply grows
Around the things
We never dared to say.
Leave the light
Not for me.
For the room
That still believes
Someone is coming home.
Don’t close the door.
Not because of hope.
Because silence
Needs somewhere
To sleep.
A bird crossed
An empty parking lot.
For a moment
It looked like
It remembered me.
Then the wind
Changed its mind.
The afternoon
Quietly exchanged itself
For another year.
I kept walking.
As if the road
Had been waiting longer
Than I had.
Perhaps we never lost each other.
Perhaps
Time simply
Learned another language.
Perhaps the houses
Were never abandoned.
Only translated.
How many times
Can a memory
Change its clothes?
How many times
Can you return
Without arriving?
I kept your silence
Like a key
That never fit
Any door
Leave everything
Exactly
As we forgot it.
The chair.
The window.
The unfinished sentence.
If tomorrow
Finds this place again
Let it wonder
Who almost lived here.
The footsteps stopped.
Only the road
Kept walking.