Rain of Torn Papers Virgo, the Virgin

My words just know the red and salty color. Blood and salt that I don't have in touch with the life I spend over papers for nobody. Today I went to the post office to mail the letters that would be read by strangers. When that girl behind the cold marble counter smiled at me for sympathy, I thought that I should deliver her my fears. I asked for her address, but she got so naturally scared. Child receiving candies from unknown person. She seemed to hesitate. Then, I slit the sealed envelopes in front of her, hurting them thoroughly. Two, four, eight and the tiny papers were increasing with my will and despair. Each time they were getting more but minor. My pains were also colored, all the tones of blue and gray. What was inside the envelopes was saved. I would deliver it to her. I begged her to reach her palms out for me. I'd like to see where I should insert myself in her life. But the lines were spent and erased. She also had suffered a big deal. Now, the non-existence was enough for her life. When I turned back to look at her for a while, I could not find the deep-set of her eyes. I went on drinking carefully that transparency, and I quite saw her vanishing between the walls. She was disappearing from my imagination. There was only one thing to do. I slapped her pale face and ran away. Rain of papers in the wind.

Suene Honorato
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