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My Lasting MemoriesThere are many and I will write them as they come to my mind.
Stepping on British soil next to John, very much in love.
Strolling and discovering his town hand in hand , beautiful Shrewsbury,
birthplace of Charles Darwin.
Walking to corners that he had never stopped to look before
and cycling among the groves of cedars, oaks, limes and weeping willows.
Walking barefooted on the English turf in the Quarry,
those 29 acres of green where originally
the stone was obtained to build houses.
Dazzled by the striking colour of flowers everywhere
the delicately manicured gardens of the Dingle.
And the Severn River ... the longest river in Great Britain,
historic bridges, arches, iron,
buildings and stories of war and depression
and flourish and progress.
The boat ride from Victoria Quay on the ferry Sabrina,
a mermaid who drowned in the river, according to the myth.
And the ducks and swans.
The car rides through the English countryside
towards Newport and Hereford and Worcester
to meet daughters
Look" And you, who is going to look at you! "
And someone looked at me,
someone saw me from afar .
Perhaps in a picture of me,
he contemplated my bare soul ,
and in need of love.
Maybe he peeked through my eyes
and he was caught
Perhaps he let himself be entangled in my hair
and seduced by my words.
" And you, who is going to look at you! "
That phrase I can not forget.
And someone looked at me.
The first time he saw me
it was from a distance.
Then there was a call
and my voice captivated him .
And he came.
He travelled many miles
to take a better look at me ...
And it was then
he could not stop looking at me,
and he came back,
and he always returns.
And he looks at me with eyes of the one that looks beyond ...
and sees perfection in the imperfection,
beauty and sensitivity,
virtues over defects.
At some point I was led to believe
no one could look at me as a woman ...
He who looks at me now,
not only sees me as a woman.
He imagines a princess, a doll,
a being of light,
25th January 2014I have turned 48.
I look back
and I see that I've had a good life
and now I feel
The difficulties were overcome ,
and I moved on .
And here I am now
I always had confidence in myself
I always knew what I wanted to do
I always followed my intuition,
And if ever there were tears
I erased them with new happiness .
At some point I was on the edge of an abyss
and had to decide
And I flew .
And from above I saw how darkness dissipated ,
and I saw that there were still flowers in my green fields .
and that there was a sun and a new moon
and four beautiful stars that guided me ...
and four beautiful clouds which sheltered me ...
and four beautiful melodies that lulled me ...
I found a great heart that opened its doors to me
and two strong arms that wanted to take care of me.
I am 48
but I do not feel old,
I feel reborn.
I'm living life
with a new intensity,
and the smile
does want not to leave my face!
25 de enero 2014.
He cumplido 48 años.
Miro hacia atrás
y veo que he tenido una buena vida
y ahora me siento
Las dificultades fueron superadas,
y seguí adelante.
Y aquí estoy ahora
Siempre tuve confianza en mi misma
siempre supe lo que quería hacer
siempre hice lo que me dictó mi intuición,
Y si hubo lágrimas alguna vez
las borré con felicidades nuevas.
En algún momento estuve al borde de un abismo
y tuve que decidir
Y desde lo alto ví como la oscuridad se disipaba,
y ví que aún había flores en los verdes campos.
y había un sol y una luna nueva
y cuatro hermosas estrellas que me guiaban...
y cuatro hermosas nubes que me cobijaban...
y cuatro hermosas melodías que me arrullaban...
Encontré un gran corazón que me abría sus puertas
y dos fuertes brazos que querían cuidarme.
Cumplo 48 años
CicatrizLa cicatriz en tu frente es
la profunda marca de nuestro amor profundo.
Cuando te miro
recuerdo que vos estás aquí por mí,
que has viajado miles de kilómetros
para estar conmigo.
Veo en tu cara
los muchos momentos de alegría que compartimos,
la manera en que descubrimos el amor de nuevo,
la diversión que hemos tenido,
y las lágrimas que derramamos cada vez que tenemos que separarnos
El corte en tu piel
por momentos corta mi corazón
y sangra mi culpa.
El golpe en tu cabeza
todavía me estremece por dentro.
Cada uno de los muchos puntos que tuviste
también traspasaron mi piel.
y recuerdo aquellas primeras noches a tu lado en el hospital,
cuidandote como una madre cuida a su niño enfermo
y llorando como lo hace una madre
cuando ve a su hijo sufrir.
Esta herida que que lastimó tu cuerpo...
en un momento pensé que podías estar muriendo, ,
siempre va a sangrar dentro mio
ScarredThe scar on your forehead is
the deep mark of our deep love.
I see you
and I am reminded that
you are here because of me,
that you travelled thousands of miles
to be with me.
I see on your face
the many moments of joy we shared,
the way we discovered love again,
the fun we have had all this time
and the tears we shed every time we have to part.
The cut on your skin
at times cuts through my heart
and my guilt bleeds.
Each of the twenty something stitches you had
pierced me sharply.
The blow on your head
still shakes inside me.
I see you
and I remember those nights by your side in hospital
watching over you
as a mother watches over a sick child,
crying as a mother cries
when she sees her child suffer.
And the many nights now when I try to stay awake
to be with you when you wake up out of discomfort and pain.
That wound that hurt your body
will always bleed inside me
will always be a reminder of that test of life.
Now I see you,
and it is all healing,
There is a before and after
and our l
Your FallI saw you fall,
in slow motion.
It was an instant ,
I wanted to help you but I could not ...
And I saw you fall and hit
and hurt yourself.
I still see you when I close my eyes ...
Now I know in an instant
happiness is tinged with red,
with despair .
I still see you in my arms, ,
your head in my hands
and I hear my own screams ...
"This can not be happening, "
but it was happening.
And I had to have the courage to face it
and the strength to help you
I talked to you,
I said your name
and you looked at me ...
I asked you not to leave me,
I asked you to stay with me .
And I shouted so hard,
from my heart, with my soul, no tears,
crying would have torn me apart.
I thought we were alone,
I thought it was the end. .
I was very afraid .
Then help arrived ,
and they rescued you and they supported me .
But then there was a long wait of uncertainty. ,
I needed to know if you were alive ...
I needed to see you, to touch you.
And I cried on shoulders unknown
And I thought what I'd d
Las preguntas de X¿Quién te quiere?
Esto es lo que pasa: yo no necesito a quién amar, sino a quién olvidar.
¿Quién recuerda cada caricia de tu cuerpo?
Hace unos días escupí mi corazón al recordar tu sinsabor.
¿Quién cambiaría por ti?
Estoy a punto de no ser yo… convertirme en el ser que nunca quise ser…
¿Quién te mira como yo?
Si a través de tus ojos veo la gloria, me aterra pensar que la siguiente actividad que me parezca peligrosa sea abrir los ojos.
¿Quién quisiera ser un sabio?
Pudo ser la mujer divina, pero no fue así… Quisiera conocer las razones, sobre todo las absurdas y las malditas.
¿Quién por ti sólo suspira?
Ese color negro de mis noches tristes y aún más amargos silencios, pues los que vivimos a media alma no sabemos respirar profundo ni guardar silencio.
¿Quién solo piensa en ti?
Todo lo que estoy pensando hoy, no lo dejaré solamente en las pal
Starlight kisses and bed sheet hugsMy teeth are
and my eyes
hold dark pockets
because of all
the late nights
I let the starlight
and my bed sheets
because I realized
you never had,
you never would.
Our Wings Flutter And SingOur Wings Flutter And Sing
my feet graze texas plains
southern currents hitting my back
and my body is left
as my soul follows what feels right.
my arms spread wide,
eyes closed and
i let the thought take me away.
i love this cliche
because i have wings with you.
i can fly because of you.
and no matter how many times
i scribble your name as a title of this poem,
i can never mutter it enough
because i’m addicted
to how it rolls off my tongue.
i miss you when i wake up,
when i sleep, when i dream,
because at least there
i wave in the morning
and kiss you through the night.
even departures there feels like
i’m leaving my home
to return to my house.
i think of you first and last,.
of your yawn and laugh,
how you scrunch your nose
and your little grin
even when you try to refuse it.
and i know you hate smiling in pictures,
but i make it my mission
to make you smile as much as possible.
i love how you keep your hair to one side
with the part in the middle.
i love how the l
some things are meant to be brokeni snatch at dog-eared love letters,
molded and mashed together into
a string of mismatched desires,
revolving around you.
love is a dystopia—-the never-ending cycle
of unrequited i-love-yous,
little white lies,
and carpe diem whispering,
“life is too short.”
we romanticize the beating heart,
if it walks pretty and talks pretty
it’s obviously a strung-up puppet but—-
—-just maybe you can sew him up, the craft
of needle and thread to stitch a real boy.
i breathe against the windowpane,
tracing tales of the boy with wild eyes
and a wicked heart on the frozen mosaic glass
framed by the need to save you.
when it’s over i’ll morph
into a hollow shell of a girl, waiting
for a starry-eyed boy to
wish me back to life and—-
—-just maybe we can be real together.
of goodbyeyour eyes
are painted with the saddest
I have ever seen
with the shade of sunset
and its tangerine gleam
those eyes, my love
are painted with
the colour of
if we were to never speak again.In silence absolute
I almost forgot you,
I almost remembered to forget
you, lonely afternoon
of naked breath,
the softness of sunset
as it rakes along my skin.
The nonchalance of the sky
almost unbearably falters
an outbreak of tears
weigh down my hair
memory of your touch,
memory of your heart,
eyes blinking through the rain
glimpses of turquoise-
blue souls dancing, but
not quite entwined.
claws into my brows,
furrows the flesh
rivulets of thought
that tear through my nervous system
cellular tinnitus, reverberations
in my spinal column,
raising mountains from
my body, darklight clouds
ghosting in the peripheries
of my vision
memory of your touch,
memory of your heart,
a lyrical tattoo
of ripened countryside
a vibrant concerto
washed between us
tidal colour drowning,
from your sweet humour
to my aching sternum
the cliffs fall away
and autumn breaks in upon us,
auburn sorrows of light
AdulationI can't take a breath
without thinking about you
when I do
it takes my breath away
every day my love for you
grows more intense
my need for you
you are as vital to me
as air and water
a smile from you
sends me to nirvana
saps my strength
every waking moment
is spent thinking of you
revolves around you
nothing makes me feel
so happy and alive
as being with you
you give so much
my heart, soul, loyalty
are all I have to offer
these you have
want them or not
I am so in love with you
my only fear on this earth
is that of you leaving me
my world would crumble
but with you near
I can survive anything
BellsNote how we've never really touched,
how only our elbows grazed each other in the darkened theatre.
No intentions, never;
only accidentals that skewered the phrase.
But darling, if I have ever not craved your chewed down fingernails grazing my cheek,
the memory has been long lost in a time of happier melodies.
UntitledAs the eyes of a demon run swiftly down your curvaceous figure
As the hands of a demon stroke your soft body, soft as a whisper
As the nose of a demon breathes in your wild scent,
As the lips of a demon gently kiss your cheek, so content
Your intelligent, glowing eyes mesmerize him, whisking him away into another creation
The softness of you on his body makes his breathing quicken
Your nose nuzzling his face reddens his face, your breathing a vibration
He pulls you into his arms and holds you in a soft embrace
You return the favor of curling into him, stopping all time and space
He pets your feline body and you purr, purr, purr...
Y La Lluvia CaeCaminar quiero de tu mano
bajo la lluvia del mes de agosto,
mi blusa mojada marcando el contorno de mi cuerpo ...
Buscamos refugio bajo algún alero,
yo me apoyo en la pared,
y tú apoyas tu cuerpo sobre el mio.
Tus manos recorren mi piel húmeda,
yo te abrazo y te jalo hacia mi.
And the rain keeps falling
and we don't care.
Y no nos detiene.
Buscas mis labios y fäcilmente los encuentras
porque yo te los entrego sin pensar.
Y en un beso profundo nos unimos
y nuestros cuerpos se rozan,
la lluvia cae
y no nos importa...
Buscamos algún otro lugar
donde las lluvia no nos moje...
donde podamos desvestirnos
y tú puedas secar las gotas de mi cuerpo con tu lengua...
Aún escuchamos la luvia caer
y no nos importa.
1420 MHzHe keeps a list wadded in the depths of his front, left pocket: where he holds his keys, and the forgotten/abandoned shell of a lone pistachio. The list is his biography, written in the shape of Argentine Spanish:
Me gustan los tomates en verano.
Yo amo a mi novio.
Nos besamos. (Mi novio chupa mis dedos de los pies.)
Las estrellas cantan sus canciones.
Mi nombre no es Eduardo.
Vivo con Jacobi ahora.
His pants are wadded, now, on summer-warmed hardwood; his shirt is draped over the back of a cane-back chair, the most incongruous of antiques in Jacobi’s tech-nerd lair. Headphones clamp his ears, and fill his head with the lisping whisper of interstellar hydrogen, broadcasting itself at a neat 1420 MHz. Bedroom is the wrong word for a place like this, despite the sorts of furnishings one might expect. There is a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and two nightstands cramped with magazines, graphic novels. An alarm clock
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