Dialectics / poem

At nightfall

The vast expanse

Full of suns and science is found.

He lies, in the most incompressible solitude.

And I feel hopelessly that I miss you, my love,

I think that at this time you will be sleeping

Or taking your evening soup

Other than this,

At this time

That escapes like a swallow,

As the swallow flees from the wind;

And it's inevitable not to draw your silhouette

With the thought,

Home Brushing your hair

I continue with your eyes that do not lie and rebuke

I continue to your skin that burns and cancels like a flare

Until I enter your breasts and pelvis that raise me

Culminating with your cotton thighs and your cherry feet

I repeat the operation again and again

I delete you entirely,

With an immense pain that constricts my chest

And it's when I hear ferocious wolves

Bark in my head

And at the end of the day, I get tired and give up

And I let you walk around the house.

Free from yourself, on the verge of insanity

Inspecting my things

Watching you in the mirror

Combing long

Convinced, after all,

That our love is only built in the dialectic

That the permanent friendship, at times,

Give your space to our torment,

This love that does not break in two

The wills,

Under a correspective complicity.

I admit, deep inside you exasperate me

That maybe, in opportunities, I come to hate you

As the sun hates the moon

As the sand hates the suspicious sea

Like the rough wheat to the worm

As the tiny worm to the Turpial

But tell me, love of fire,

Who, but I, can hate you

And love you both at the same time?

I, that teaches you to kiss ...

I, who teaches you to die,

I who showed you the creation of God and that of Man,

And you see,

The cloudy violet of dawn

It permeates everything,

The reflections of the aurora, pierce your image

They extinguish it between smoke and fury.

Exhausted my eyelids fall down

My hard day ends here,

Just when yours begins,

Rested

Free from all my abstractions

From my questions,

From my sorrows and sorrows,

Of useless formalisms or replacements,

Freedom

That is your dress and my passion of evil artist

And that's why my love, although it's enough

It will never be enough for you ...

I'm on that side where you're not mine

Where I can not reach you.