I woke to a heavy rain today.
You passed over me and left your pretentious love
where you knew the soil could take its shape,
where I wouldn't wish for anything
and wouldn't ask a thing.
You walked on the tired soil of my soul
which was desirous of a form more beautiful
even if only for a few moments more.
When the rain poured over the shutters
and the balcony and the soil,
you'd passed already,
but the form of your pretense still lay on me,
not as sweet as I had thought it to be,
but bitter cruel and cold....