domingo, 30 de agosto de 2009

ni por uno más, ni menos.


Me atan tus manos,
me desvelan tus sueños,
me pierden tus suspiros;
anhelo tu voz que se pierde
en mi inventario mental,
formando bullicio.
Admiro esos ojos,
esa boca que fue y es
un potente tintero para mí pluma.
Me es efímero olvidarte
y mis fortalezas más profundas
te las dedico día y noche.
Sí, soy una ninfa, la peor;
sí, soy una niña, la mejor;
tropezando con tempestades
anhelando tu calor regodeando mi cuerpo,
deseando haber pérdido rasgos
de esto que voy quemando aún sin quererlo.
Buscandote desesperadamente,
sin estrategias,
vago desnuda quemando el lecho
de tus sueños, recorriendo
cada estrecho de tu piel
llena de enigmas.
Ahora no son mis manos,
ni mis ojos,
mucho menos mis pensamientos
sino mí boca quien te poseé,
desgusta, debilita, desata.
Es mí aliento el que te habita,
mi alma, tu residente.
Y sin émbargo,
el imprudente destino
nos dió unos diez años más.

.-

viernes, 21 de agosto de 2009

Un rugoso sabor a tequila.


Cómo si la tela de aquel atuendo
pudiera dejar, en mí, vívidas marcas
color
café empolvadas de suciedad.
[Y aunque probarlo me fuese aún más inútil...]

Cómo si el despacio palpitar de tus ojos
sobre mi menton usurparía el tieso
descansar de cada emoción carente de libertad.
[Aunque probarlo fuera incoherente...]


Disfruto de tu sensatez
y me ahogo
en tus mentiras estrafalarías.
Amando tus besos y lamentando,
sí, soy esclava anónima de tu piel. [Ecos de ser anónima...]

Me hago ajena a tí, aunque en vos esté yo
y posea ese delicioso sabor ardiente
en cada esquina de mis venas.
Muerdo tu piel, palpo despacio tu placer. [Color rojo se tiñe nuestro cielo...]

Despacio, sosteneté; bajo

este ademán líquido no hay
ni un solo pastor
que pisarlo pueda,

pues nos queda, un turbio trayecto. [Amante de tu ocultísmo...]

Tenores a callar, tu cántico
será
lo único mortal que despeje mis sentidos.
No desperdiciés moral,
lo que no cuenta es en vano tenerlo.
[O, tirarlo...]

¿Me sirve despojarte entero?

¿Me sirve acariciarte en vilo, aguantando mis ganas

mis locas ganas?
Entre tanto me leo, pongo trabas,

despejo y escribo. [No, está mal. Las trabas son un juicio eterno sin émbargo nadie las quita...]


No está mal,
por una semana de fraseo involuntario.[7]

Como si me importara.


- What are you going to do when i forget you? How are you going to find me again? Maybe this is not the reason why i deserve you, because maybe i cannot have you at all-- But why do I think i can?-- I just can believe in what it was and how you were, because i cannot touch this future, this present at all.
- You don't have to touch any present or any future, because what I see is what I want. You're my past, my present and my future. And trust me, I know I have been a totally fool... but you cannot be saying those things... I'm totally yours.
- What do I see in front of me? Isn't it a regretful man who is calling my name? Isn't it a beautiful prince who never wanted me at all? What kind of confussing words is he introducing in my ears? Is he trying to fight with my feelings or am I getting crazy?
- You're not getting enough honest to call it madness. You're not getting enough beautiful because of your sadness, Oh my pretty lady... I wish i can turn back and see everything i missed with you and think it twice to re-do it the best way I can, but it's awfully late for me.
- Oh I think everything it's changing right now for me... Your hands are getting smaller, your eyes are really looking to my eyes! What kind of joke is this? What kind of illusion? Why are you coming back to me?
- Because I realized it... My truth, my faith, my peace, everything I am, reminds me to those nights when we're together and in love... And everything was ok, except for those people who didn't want us together! Oh My love... I miss your body between my hands, your hair over my neck and your taste... Everything you were, everything you are. I can see you haven't changed, and I want you...
- You have never told me that you were in love of me as I have never told you to. But all of this time... I wanted to tell you a simple thing. I Love You. Entirely. And I just cannot believe you're telling me this kind of things... I actually though, that you've never loved me... I though I was some kind of toy.
- That Killed you.
- That killed my soul... I wanted to trough up all of that butterflies who meant love to me.
- So you've always loved me.
- And I'm still in love with you.
- So Do I. So do I. I've been totally a fool... all of this time... I though i've messed up everything with you that night.
- Oh... That night. The awfully night. Nobody let me to remember that night... but I know that, the problem was that night. And you were wrong, I still don't care about that night, because the best thing was being with you, the rest was... nothing.
- But how could i know that?
- My eyes told you, and you couldn't see. Why?
- Because I was blinded about the situation, and your eyes were too sad to me, that i couldn't even look at them, and I'm so sorry.
- Your cheeks are particulary nice today. Lets keep the past as an experience, and love each other right now... Because I don't want to lose you at all.
- Me neither.