Comments on Profile Post by Haerether

Where does love go to die?
On the naked width of unread shelves,
The pensive groping of youth,
Or could the wheels of justice
Serve as its coffin?

A song long unsung
Or in fingers out to filch
Whatever is left of what had long been filched
From under our noses? Is memory,
In truth, the Land of the Dead?

This city has long been disabused
Of the insurrection of the flower
The wild silk light of sleep
The lockerooms of doves and discourses
To the shame of the tormented.

Late one night, I saw
A gabardine rose fall from a height
Of a thousand branches, only to be met
By a bed of stone; In death,
Could rocks have the feel of cotton?

I have asked myself repeatedly
Where love goes to die;
Nobody knows, not me, nobody
But the poets, the priestesses, the crowned
Yet empty roads drunk with blood.

Its a poem by Joel Pablo Salud. I don’t understand it well, but I had this saved on my Notes haha

It's good and quite symbolic.
Reading poems?

I am!