I mistook my verses

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I mistook my verses
with my bitterness,
I filled yesterday
with my deep regrets,
and I fustigue my anguish
with my distant loves
that are leaving
with the swaying of the afternoon.
I confused my tears
with the waters of seas that fill
the emptiness of my soul,
that are remembrances
of poor illusions.
I want every note
that comes out of my sorrow
synthesizes that frustrated love
by vain illusions that furrow
the places of my constant
struggles to reach your kisses.
I got confused with the air
that I breathe thinking
that it was the breath
of your mouth that reaches
to my lips to brighten
my silence that wants to have
a love full of tenderness.
I got confused with the music
of eternal romanticism,
with the voices that come out
from my thoughts
for wanting them to be smiles
that calm my sorrows.