Un abrazo amigos de las letras. Saludos.
La noche siempre regala un pretexto para que el sentimiento y la palabra se tornen poesía. Ese es mi pretexto para regalarles estos versos que espero disfruten y me comenten.
Gracias.
Anoche soñé tus manos. Mi cuerpo se hacía leve entre ellas; ¿era la noche o el insomnio? Tal vez solo el deseo.
Anoche no supe detener los besos; me quedé atrapada en el roce, en el aliento, en la voz de tu cuerpo sobre mí. Sobre mi sueño.
Anoche eras piel, claro de luz y sombra; eras tiempo sin manecillas, sin adioses. Eran tus ojos dibujando siluetas, dibujando riberas hasta el alma.
Anoche te permití caer sobre mis sábanas, todo sudor y lluvia. Solo anoche, solo nunca, sin un después.
A hug, friends of letters. Greetings.
The night always gives a pretext for the feeling and the word to become poetry. That is my excuse to give you these verses that I hope you enjoy and tell me about.
Thank you.
Last night I dreamed of your hands. My body became light between them; Was it the night or insomnia? Maybe just desire.
Last night I didn't know how to stop the kisses; I was trapped in the touch, in the breath, in the voice of your body above me. About my dream.
Last night you were skin, clear of light and shadow; You were time without hands, without goodbyes. They were your eyes drawing silhouettes, drawing riverbanks to the soul.
Last night I allowed you to fall on my sheets, all sweat and rain. Only last night, only ever, without an after.
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