He remembers none of...

Old letters full with words….
Words once and somewhere already said.
But the old running man
Remembers none of them…

He remembers none of the days…
Those days with tired eyes,
Those are still wandering around
And their dreams are full with wings.

He remembers none of the silence….
The one who has erased the sin of the fear,
He remembers none of her inky whispers
And their stories of broken flowers.

He remembers none the love….
The love, poisoned by the taste of the blood
The love which is born to live again,
Dressed up in loneliness.

He remembers none of...