I will let him pull the trigger today,
and tomorrow and the next day.
I do not think much of this because
I have too many tricks in my bag.
Too, too many tricks to pout over
the lost cause of a broken evening.
Too many tricks to shed a tear over one lost.
Or so, that's what I've said to myself.
Repeating, repeating, repeating...
'Too many tricks to shed tears over one broken evening.'
'Too many tricks to shed tears over a shattered dream.'
But I haven't pulled anything out of the bag yet.
It's sagging down with coward's weight.
Cowardice that consumes me;
I am eaten, engulfed like a beach by a hungry wave.
I hope one day that I will be the one pulling the trigger.
And maybe that day is soon approaching.
Maybe it will coast in with the moon
and he will be cast out to sea
by the morning's arrival.

by Charles Andres Alberto

Other poems of ALBERTO (12)

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