I'm not going to lie you this time, the sky is just floating somehow upon us, that black bird is drawing the horizon like a thin string that spreads into pointless darkness. Moon has rise already, and you're looking great in your porcelain doll dress, white and black, as your plain way of spend our nights.
Spirits disappear in the shapes of unspeakable bodies, touch that not remember, I have no memories right now, but I feel them within, under my skin, slithering like symbols, drawing a whole new lenguage under my skin, reinventing my skin, this epidermis, this limits of myself that no one before have franquet so efficiently, I feel like the feather of a wounded bird falling during midnight, like the vail of the ship that slenders the ocean face during the sunset... Here I am, in all the ways I can be, touching, sleeping, walking in the static, breathing so close to your face, so far for our promises. And I see no clarity, no end for this rainy cloud upon us, by now you should start realizing, we never meant to be together, who in this our are meant to be together, humans relationships, are just appereals of the need, of the desperation caused by solitud, you may try to bid this farewell, we never get close enough, never close enough, tomorrow when you wake up, you may cry, you may cry the whole night if you let so, but something if building right inside my veins, boling, exploding, expanding, tearing me from inside... I cannot longer recognize myself in the mirror, my whole body was demolish, until now I was like a living statue bleeding salt, crying eternally and internally as the ocean, but now I more like it's rage, spilling withing myself, melting with my inners, with my insides, all my personalities had and agreement, now I feel so much less human...
Sex is not the deal right here, nor about penetrating bodies, collapsing in each other, trembling like the thunder strucking the sky, not that simple, nor animalistic, more like the howl of the hungry wolf, the sound, the echoe spreading in the vastisy, you may nor understand, It is not meant to be understood, even now I can't put it a name, love itself, Eros epyphany, i'm lacking poetic arguments here, even moralistic or phylosophical ones, nothing in the human knowledge of intimacy could explain me this, the skin talking itself, maybe if you touchme you'll understand it better, listen not to my voice tonight, close your eyes, there's nothing that can be seen, only felt, a caress will do the speech, the whole explanation, this theorical situation in which we can be close like flames, melting in the air, sparks, I don't know, I didn't believe it in first, but now, here are you, I called you, not by the phone, there's not a wire that can transform into electricity what is electricity itself. Now you get it? Closing bodies, not, melting entities, traspassing all physicall frontiers to become, not one, just to become, to comunion with the whole, in the edge of the nothing, in desperation, creation and destruction, marriage of the rains, of the mountains, of the rivers of the seas... let's take us as lover's leap into the sea of enlightment...
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And that's the only place where you are really yourself. No one else, just the eyes closed, rivers flowing and a scream in the middle waiting to be yelled with happiness.
No one can know you that close then...
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