Conscience

A day with you is spent between combat and reproach;

you’re a mix of mother, father and judge,

a strong wall with the spirit of an unbridled colt.


Inflexible, you refuse to be an accomplice,

preferring to be a redeemer or executioner,

or, in the best of cases, a conciliator.


At the end of the day,

you become a delightful fairy with black earrings,

a sign to throw ourselves onto the desire-consumingpillow

confirming, conscience,

that you rule my best nights.​

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