viernes, 2 de octubre de 2015

De avispas y lobos.



I'm a wasp for you
wandering over             your withered flowers
wanting them to spring.
The everlasting white showering your petals
I want to wash with the dew on my wings
your stamen
I would even want to lick          and eat.

I'm a werewolf for you
howling to your silhouette, watching it being free
with yellowish eyes, like the feathers of a warbler  
hoping you would satisfy my hunger                     and wicked instincts.

I would face destiny and doom
only desiring to wake up and dry
the wail of you waning moons.

[...I don't mind not recognizing myself in the mirror.]

May I have been the worst, the most wasteful wight who ever
touched
your happiness.
May I be.
When the lights go out           We
You and Me
will cease being beings
to be whatever we want to be.

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