My crystal ball
Your eyes are like a crystal ball
on which my future is drawn.
Your body is a battlefield
in which I do not know peace.
And I never cry, baby,
but lately I feel I’m a castaway
of my own disappoinment...
Tonight you can leave your ghosts with me,
they can sing me lullabies
in case I can’t sleep.
They can show me, if you leave,
how to weep and sew these wonunds with a
thread of forgetfulness.
And I never allow myself to love,
but lately I feel I could
love myself less in order to
love you more.
Can I borrow your dreams?
Could you trust in my hands to hold them all?
In this love to scare away all your fears?
And if I’m honest. your eyes are also screaming,
and they say you want to stay,
that you want to feel again my tongue
running all over your back.
So I go on, studing every point of your body,
my worship temple,
making breathing look like poetry.
Pretending I don’t know you will have to leave,
I pretend we will never wake up from this dream.
