Me importan los gorriones | Poesía [ES/EN]

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Me importan los gorriones,
las memorias,
el puente que aún respira tus labios
con el olor de piernas húmedas
en el gesto de no tocarte.
La libertad
no es una caricia de pétalos
en la piel de los dinosaurios;
raíces enroscadas como vísceras,
muerte pudriéndome a picotazos el esófago,
rompiendo mis costillas
para salir al aire.
Desapareces,
y ya no quedan piedras.

¡Muchas gracias por tu visita!

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_{©Copyright 2026 Roswel Borges Castellanos. Todos los derechos reservados.}

_{Esta publicación fue parcialmente traducida con Google Translate.}

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I care about the sparrows,
the memories,
the bridge that still breathes your lips
with the scent of damp legs
in the gesture of not touching you.

Freedom
is not a caress of petals
on the skin of dinosaurs;
roots coiled like entrails,
death pecking at my esophagus, rotting it,
breaking my ribs
to get out into the air.

You disappear,
and there are no stones left.

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I invite you to visit the project DRIP - WITNESS NODE - BPUD

Support the witness and vote for TheBbhProject! Project carried out by @bradleyarrow

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_{If you still have witness votes available, please also consider voting for the witness who runs @stresskiller}

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Thank you very much for your visit!

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_{©Copyright 2026 Roswel Borges Castellanos. All rights reserved.}

_{This post was partially translated using Google Translate.}

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