OliviaLennox

My tactic is to watch you learn to love yourself as you are my tactic is to talk to you and listen to you build with words an indestructible bridge my tactic is to stay in your memory I don't know how or under what pretext but to stay in you my tactic is to be frank and know that you are frank and that we don't sell ourselves My strategy is instead deeper and simpler. My strategy is that one day, I don't know how or under what pretext, you'll finally need me..

Your eyes remind me of the black summer nights, moonless nights, the shore of the salt sea, and the sparkling stars of the black and low sky.. Your eyes remind me of summer nights. And your brown flesh, and your refined wheat, and the fire-breathing of ripe fields.. From your dark grace, from your gypsy dream, from your shadow look I want to fill my glass. I'll get drunk one night of black and low sky, to sing with you, by the salt sea, a song that leaves ashes on my lips.. From your shadow look I want to fill my glass.

Give me your hand and we will dance; Hold my hand and you will love me. As one flower we will be, as one flower, and nothing more. We'll sing the same verse, you'll dance at the same pace. Like a tang we will undulate, like an ear, and nothing more. Your name is Rosa and I am Esperanza; But you'll forget your name, 'cause we'll be a dance on the hill and nothing more.

Because now I pass my hand over the underside of the leaves and I can read their alphabet and if I close my eyes I hear a river running and it's your voice that wakes me up because my body starts now in you and ends beyond the rain where your arms reach and the fear that's surrounded doesn't watch and I know how to call things so that These jump, strip, and all be fresh to my eyes, that love in your eyes, because in my crying, soft carnivorous plants grow, and my blood throbs like an open iguana, because now my body recovers its parts and a new skin is born, which defeats the summer, because you taught me to breathe..

It was a ship in the sea, it was love in the midst of the immense waves, and it was my loneliness as a sailor and the dark fish in your braids.. I thought of you, dreamed I was going with you to scent the harbors, and plant anchors and constellations on the sleeping foreheads of the dead.. But I dreamed hardly, my love, and the raging waters roused me from sleep, and you were cut off from my shore like a sad boat or a log. The ship, the whole ship, without you was a coffin on the waves, a wounded floating sadly on a crowd of poppies. I staggered among the seagulls, I bowed to you salubriously, and the islands shone like moons over the whole night of my forehead. (In the deep sea there is nothing but memories and salt on my skin, on life, and love that asks for blood and answers the lip of a wound.). Sometimes it was Monday, they said it was Monday my brothers, and I saw you come on the waves with the whole week in your hands. Time was your absence, the sea was the shadow of my sadness, and the ship was a shipwreck that was leaning and not deciding. At night the stars flew, like goldfish, across the sky, and I thought that on the land you too were watching this flight. The ship of love, of lovers, still sails through my veins, and raises the foam of my blood and the fishing of my sorrows.. A tidal noise that never stops despite the days and the steps that hit the shore of my kisses and the cliffs of my arms. Hear the ship, wife, close your ears to my skin like flowers, and hear the ship, the ship, sail my inland seas.

If someone knocks on your door, my friend, and something in your blood beats and does not rest and in your stem of water, trembling, the source is a fluid of harmony. If someone knocks on your door and you still have time to be beautiful and you can fit all of April in a rose and by the rose bleeds the day if someone knocks on your door a morning of doves and bells and you still believe in pain and poetry if still life is true and the verse exists. If someone knocks on your door and you're sad, open it, that's love, my friend.