Looking deep in my past

Looking deep in my past
I find few words
Few pieces of papers
Some enchanting moments
Some memories

You were a poet and I used to read
Those were the words, exalting me indeed
I never pondered more than a note of solicitude
You scribed your thoughts but reflected my exactitude

How could I know, those turning alleys

Looking deep in my past
I find a friendship turning into amour
A poet that I still adore
Who writes on me, her every next rhyme
And keeps on winning on the same theme

How could I know, those turning alleys

Looking deep in my past
I find few tears
With every word of mine that she hears
I close it down but later discern
Lost my world with a little stern

Now I see those turning alleys
With everything in me that breaks
What I had and what I lost
Should have known at any cost