We like oleanders,
the land border.
How much effort is hidden in becoming
never perceive
the thin line that separates the before and after the time
formed
as in a womb,
in the room.
E 'fatigue
light of dawn after a long night without stars
and thought you clandestine
as the cry of belonging to an apology.
He tends short like life,
my room.
Beatrice Niccolai
borderland
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