La última prosa

I don't know if I should wait for you again
For a morning or two
The juice in my shadow is burning
The good news is you, it's you

The night is exhausted from seeing me
Maybe it's better to rest
It's cold outside and it's late
The clock today fell asleep, it went away

And you will come with a smile
Wrapped in the breeze
And you will see me useless, insane
Unconsciously

I will step on your bed of graves
And no butterflies
I will solve the last prose
Solve my things alone