you talk about the important things
which ceased to be on the tablecloth
of verses written on my skin
killed
intact and distant from your eyes, time and moments
paper tied with kisses ...
'll tell you honestly, without the bitterness spilled
life without implants
soul. Totally quiet, I will speak of love
handfuls
postponed to disuse, joys
banished from the world and other convictions.
'll tell you one afternoon
sunset of my fall ... And say you loved me.
M ª Antonia Gutiérrez Huete
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