She was here, in the mirror,
stark naked, she came knowing
the injuries of obsession.
Beasts drank from her palms
as she lay down on your bed.
Her pale body had become
a living denial of reason,
a bare wave unfolding
in the tiny green planets of your eyes.

You tried to contain desire
in your simple hands, when all was dark
and no limits defined.
At dawn, her heart slept under your feet
while your own exceeded you.
The beasts licked their teeth,
waiting for something red to eat.
If someone offered to save you
you wouldn’t have known what it meant.

Years after, you wish you could say
it’s all over. But it ended so many times
before, these words got emptier
and emptier. She always returned.
You turned back even more.
Now the beasts seek a pretext for being,
they are lost, they don’t understand.
Life was more real
the days you couldn’t touch the ground.
The sky has lost its pure arterial blue.

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