Her expectations are dazed,
she has nothing to look forward
to, but to remember in only a
Only to see her effort at hand,
to the moment that left her heart
wounded and in profound misery.
Deep, deep in the midst of her soul.
Now she surrenders her grief to the night,
to time that follows her always
faithful and exact, next to her in
every move she makes.
She gave to surrender and buried her
dreams in a garden of broken
appetence, her blood so warm,
now is cold, like a winters night.
There's no one to fervor it. She's lost
in the middle of her empty desires;
lost and can't find a route, to enter
and lose all of this passion she has no use for.
Elena Toledo's Other Poems
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