The Blues

Dear 

From time to time I get a visitor whose journey definite plans I ignore. His visits are temporary, but after some days he leaves a strong bruise on my shoulder, like a shapeless tattoo that dispels into an inner burn under the skin. I rebel and twist my body unto the ground, try to escape attempting to loosen his chilling grip on me. All in vain. 

Just waiting for him to leave   

                                         me   

                                              alone. 

To understand the blueprint that stays on me thereafter. Like a volcano receding fire and light that knows me better than myself. 

Love, 

PS. Yes, Spring has come. It knows it so well. I still haven't completely noticed; it's still dawn for me. I'm blinded by that light.