he touched my hand

he touched my hand
and for a cold moment
I was a woman. . .
lips trembling with awe, 
whispering lies

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Lucecita Benitez - Cabalgata

Image
Letra de Roberto Carlos Cabalgaré toda la noche Por una senda colorida Mis besos te daré en derroche De una manera algo atrevida Me aferraré de tus cabellos Por no caer de ese galope Voy a atender a mis anhelos Antes que el día nos sofoque Me perderé de madrugada Para encontrarte en mi abrazo Después de nuestra cabalgata Me acostaré en tu regazo Sin importarme si en ese instante Soy dominado o si domino Me sentiré como un gigante O tan pequeño como un niño Y las estrellas del lugar Se nos acercan para ver Y aún conservan su brillar Después de nuestro amanecer Y en la grandeza de ese instante Mi amor cabalga sin saber Que en la belleza de esa hora El sol espera por nacer Y las estrellas del lugar Se nos acercan para ver Y aún conservan su brillar Después de nuestro amanecer Y en la grandeza de ese instante Mi amor cabalga sin saber Que en la belleza de esa hora
Read more

My Sea is Strong

Image
My Sea is Strong   I confess, in the heart of night, I imagine myself cascading on my lover’s body. My jewel is a dead sea, salty and safe. Blessed lover soaked with my body. He who drags me to his shore. Who gathers the moans I sow in seashells. Who tosses my kisses back to the sea. Who knows stones are also carved by water. Who steals whatever I have with precision. Who recognizes when to replace what was stolen. This is how I love you, every second committed to your pleasure, but I never say it. I hide the salt crashing on your reef inside my veins.
Read more

Deciduous Magnolia

Image
Deciduous Magnolia I live in the emancipated pigeons of verbs that bellow or are silent, tattooing my spaces with the ancient wisdom that climbs up my tired back. I sneak into the senile mind of my illusions. But what if I get lost in the intricate abyss of the flesh's twilight? Who would pour the pearls of their anguish over me, or light the alter candle of my perennial memories? Whose Nannie would sleep with me on the dismay of my wandering soul, my bed of withered magnolias? If I shout into the wind, the leaves of anguish are shaken. Wind stirs the nests of disenchantment and anger. The storms of the past are subjected to the bluster of my echo, and the indelible present among  the branches of my tree. I shelter myself within carmine so as not to lose sight of the dawn.
Read more