That hand waving goodbye will get blurred as our eyes fill with those tears that we don't want for anyone to see, but that stubbornly, having a mind of their own will roll down like dead little doves...

Dying love...

…is like a river without the rain
to fill the waves that gives it its life
so it can grow stronger with storms
and hold the returning salmons alive.

…is like an empty crib, without hope
to hold that small bundle, your child,
your eyes looking at the white shadow
as love go on ripping your heart apart.

…is like opening a door after absence
kept you from the way to come back,
with tired feet walking to nowhere
on an unending forever crossing paths.

…is like writing that cruel “dear” letter
to not even a John, but to a someone
that suddenly is wishing that next bullet
have his name, and that it enter his heart.

…is like seeing her happily running towards
the waiting embrace to that another man,
the one you were yesterday full of illusions
but that today you are clearly not that one.

…is like a shroud of sadness over the eyes
that can’t see no more, its world became dark,
dying love doesn’t give room but for pain,
and when in pain we wouldn’t see the light…