Listen to my call O'hummingbird.

I remember that it hurt,

looking right at her hurt.


I felt my stomach turn knots on knots, for I

had failed in mustering that velvety courage,

to speak to her of my heart,

that she was the one my heart had battled for.


Like a darkness of that solitude,

like the wishes of the prisoners;

I remembered her in my prayers,

for I was scared of those glares.


I dreamed of looking at her,

through the curtain of my silver blinding,

from the drenched eyes of wonder.


I stood there in the silence,

but my eyes walked in wonder,

on the shores of her beauty,

I calm, and exalt her beauty.


I reach my hand at her,

for I feel the agony in

in which my hand surrenders,

before the beauty she breathes.


I imagine myself saying,

something to her of love,

something I feel will convince her,

of the spareness in that warmth,

my heart feel for her in the darkness.


I remember that it hurt,

looking right at her heart.

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