domingo, 2 de fevereiro de 2014


My love is made of solitude
You don´t share.
Pretend to play by your side
I'm an archaeologist
trying to open your sarcophagus nude.

I read the hieroglyphics
but I can´t decipher your hand.
Are you a sphinx
and devours me completely.

Poetry is your best guide.
But lives buried in the dust of the day.
Under the rubble of their routine.

I'm isolated miles away
from any inhabited land.
The only bridge that remains between us is poetry.
Her diaphanous fabric can´t play.

You live in somnambulistic state.
I'm the corpse bride.
Looking for meager crumbs
I try to save you by resurrection.

Maybe so you don´t return
to the living world direction.
I hope I found the triumphal arch
where my love lives.

Nathalia Leão Garcia 

February  2nd , 2014 


I learned to inhabit my lonely emotion. I write to my imaginary son. The same fictional childhood´s companion. I live in the point ...