LONG NIGHTS In their speaking, long nights can’t stop weeping, their sorrow transforms into song no man could hum. The white moon can hear it and weeps as well. The stars shine on in clear skies with unseen tears. Snow falls gently at night and in the day. Time cries and cries. In their speaking long nights can’t stop weeping. WHEN MY DESIRES BEGIN TO FADE When my desires begin to fade, that is when my senses will return. I will take a small breath, a sigh, and let the darkness come. I will listen to the melody of night birds, and hope my desires do not return. THE DEAD LIVE IN MY DREAMS The dead live in my dreams. They wait for me to fall asleep. Some are dear to me and some are diabolical. Decomposed and frail, they walk like children taking their first steps. Some walk with a limp. I find it disconcerting. I talk to those I love again. I ask them to pray for me. They are always waiting for my body to tire out. I listen to their complaints. I wake up and remember what they said. Some talk without breath. Others do not utter a word.
Born in Mexico, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozáballives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles, CA.His poetry has been published by Blue Collar Review, Borderless Journal, Escape Into Life, Kendra Steiner Editions, Mad Swirl, SETU, and Unlikely Stories.
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