Those yellow teeth have always been with you, he asked?
I try Blanch them, but nothing said.

Still and all  his heart and his emotions were more.

And happened when they met, the earth also turned to find them.

Somewhere in his memory, that distant question:
what  may I do with those dreams that you brought into my life?

Maybe continue with you, and maybe you should find your own answers, he said.

It is best to think, I come from the other side of your door, perhaps a new opportunity, to live your life from another evening and their stars.


Everything seems to indicate that he never caresses his hair.
Of course, he would like  to keep that detail in his memory and evoke it.
Like Proust, when dipped in his cup of tea the cupcake, and the indelible memory emerged from him.

Yes, the hours of the winter were insufficient.

Texts traveled from side to side of the city, although was snowing.

Any excuse was used to see each other. Every morning, afternoon or night, as  whole  existed for them.

And at dawn, when nearly frozen returning home, his wife read those messages while he was sleeping, and though comes from a girlfriend.

Everything seems to indicate that it was, what something else may think? Never in her mind  the idea that his husband were loved by a man.

Every minute that passed, each one lived and dreamed, the planet inhabited by two.

But as the day passes, it also drains the time, and is incessant understand, that  was the man with yellow teeth, who gave him the courage to open the doors of his life to the unstoppable force of love.

His wife and himself never wanted that it had happened and the man of yellow teeth either.

Who will remember the houses where they lived,
        its streets and the moon and the snow of those days.

Who can remember that night that came to them forever
and in his hands that little piece of paper so beautifully written.

Who will remember the glances of his eyes,
perfuming the dawn,
in a world that both certainly inhabited.

Maybe one would remember his hair,
-oh, his soft hair-
and on his lips the kisses that brought them from the sea.

The time went away and maybe it does not come back,
implacable that day
each one found himself,
and they stay forever.

And although all things could not be remembered
one of them will resist oblivion,
that soft liquid with unknown flavor,
it has remained on his lips
like the soft stream of waters,
in love with the sea.

My precious Seth,

your skin fine as delicate wool,

your clean body as the morning rain,

your enchanted eyes,
the pure innocence,

your lips,
evocatives and tender.

Your tiny hair,
a pleasant forest under a caring sun.

You, my idyllic happiness,
evocative song of a whispering love.

How I enjoyed love seeing your face today,
the little acne around that perfect nose,
like a red beginnings stars.

And the golden and tiny hair on your forehead,
evocative breeze of an inspirited boy,
wearing a simple red shirt.

And those tender lips as dedicates roses.
you Angelo,
looking from those calm green eyes.

You the one I saw and love in an instant,
in a moment,
in an eternal moment.

Two Souls in a universe,
where eyes are blind.

Aprendi a ser valiente,
Mirandome en tus ojos.
Encontrandote,
en tu bosque de sueños.


Aprendi a tocarte,
mirandote lejano,
como en el fondo del mar.

Aprendi esa noche,
Esa unica noche,
Que te desnudaron mis manos,
Con tus manos suaves.


Aprendi a encontrarte
Cuando estas y no estas,
Cuando somos solitarios,
Y me olvidas,
Y regresas.
Con amor o sin el,
Porque no hay fin,
Nunca lo habra.

There is a forest behind your eyes and a stranger serenity.

Your soft hair caresses your manly face.

Your fingers, soft and forties tips rounded,

Tender and flexible as your lips.

Your body upright, covered with soft hair in an almost white background.

The beauty of the world
in a single man.

The immortality is being with you,
Shining in your eyes,
Feeling completely,
all what we are.

That's the tragedy of the love,
Being and not, touching and not,
Kissing and not.


I do no know if merely abandon your ways,
But those uncertainties overcome me,
And  really I liked we were more.

There are  many things,
To be said what we are,
But almost impossible to say all,
And it is a great misfortune for me.

If one day, I am distant, Cesar,
That is not what you suppose,
It is only, I want to wake up from this dream,
from this love...

He will return to the place where never was,
in a day without nights, he will return.

On the last day of winter,
with the white ceiling illuminating his eyes.
He will return.

In the morning when he is absent,
with the same look when they met.

When not one hear they,
When no one feels,
When no one looks at them.


With his hands of leaves and tree,
With a forgotten name,
He will come back.

In the Olam-Haba that he just knew,
on his own Olam-Haba,
They will return.

WhiteViolets


Came out from our memories.
Tiny silent witness,
at the end of a bleak battle.

Petals everywhere,
at the beginning
of an infatigable morning,
without tears.

Each one of us,
keep what was lost forever.

And the fragrances of those little flowers,
went with the wind,
return same day and night,
where *our first meeting was.

The voice of his heart is silent,
distant as  never exists.

It comes soaked from a rain,
and sits there and look at.

The language of his eyes,
is the only certainty.

The scent in the perfume,
the skin color,
his small fatigued feet,
are never strange for him.

His voice as he recognizes,
when  hears.

His lips,
as he sees,
delicate as petals,
ambiguous,
and the voice
- that voice -
that made his own one
*unknown.

Uncertain loneliness pain dresses and appeared that day.

No messages arrive early as every Saturday was.

And after work that night, no one expects him.

That unmistakable Hello! No longer will return to hear.

He comes from away looking work and welfare and, in return found a strange feeling, that changed his life forever.

It's  invisible the mark on the passport of an unknown country.

The city is same but definitely different as when he arrived. It is impossible to name, perhaps. The wind is still blowing cold and the trees are without leaves-.

That day -that city- watched him walk away without a word.

Even the sweet kiss that woke up a different morning do not accompany him.

The nights and days caressed unknowingly be forgotten and no one will undress him tenderly.

And indeed, it is uncertain whether leaves or dies.

In the distance, the voice of a judge revokes that forgiveness for deportation.

Maybe someday meet again or maybe the oblivion take them by surprise. But in the city, no one knows whether dusk or dawn, but he never sees them again.

And the lonely city, remain behind expecting that someday others dare
to enter and stay forever.

.
                        .
You my strange companion for a year,

My agony and my daily breath,

You, who are with me and not.


You that I encountered
outside the world,

But existed in me.

Who left, but still.


You, who demolished all my fears,

The love who had come,

The boy, but the man,

That jumped from my mind.


You, my world without end,

My fragile soul,

*You myself.

Partner in that other world.
In the courage of David and Jonathan
In the nights and down,
and the first light of the day,

In the painful goodbye,
In spirit and in its end.

In the light and in the night,
In the purest happiness,
In the universe that nobody knows.

In the joy of finding him,
and the last and first goodbye.

In the river that only once crosses,
In the back that never reverts.

In the perfume and the fragrance,
of the words that you chose.

In the day and the dark,
In the enigma of life,

In the dream that you made a reality,
In our last and only goodbye,
Ariel, Toto coelo, there will be no more.
And maybe I, with him.

I may love you in my silences,
Maybe you know it, maybe not.

I may love you as being your guest,
An early guest one and unique,
A visitor into your eyes and your voice.

I may love you in the land of this language,
a language of silent encounters was born my words,
without elegance, but truly.

I may love you in this land of glances,
of simplicity intuitions,
a land of being one.

They meet on a little river on the web,
And choose the friendship of the earth and the moon.
The fragrance of his smiles, become theirs frontiers.

One day, the young discovered his friend as a poet and the words he used, were a tender ribbon of pure love.

May be  was too young for that encounter,
But not at all, he is brave on his heart.

Nobody knows why, he does not recognize those songs and poems existed for him.

Even, their first encounter was seven hundred of years ago on Granada, Spain.

Today, as usual, in a lovely and happy day, another time to time encounter come.

But no, is not.
Each of them ignored, theirs worlds will not be the same,
After such a day and after this last encounter....

It was December 2012, wasn't it?
A hard, cold wind covered the Twin Cities.

Just from the beginning, all happened with causality, and their first met was in that store.

He asked something so simple, but without that question, their encounter  was lost in the millions of simple details that every hour,
only pass through the time.

He was driving under snow and almost no light that night,
It happens accidentally he tries to kiss his beautiful lips, but he had not the courage to accept.

Before now, it is certain that this encounter, was the beginning of a long, long journey, writing by an unknown.

He loved him for almost three years
and he was, for sure,
his most intimate friend.

Not for all his life as he liked,
but inside his mind and his soul,
he will be forever, what he wanted.

We were happy
In an ordinary day.

In this city,
Who knew,
The splendor of your eyes.

We were happy,
In our hands,
Any one together,
While I was driving,
And I don't remember
Where we went or were.


We were happy,
In the courage
You gave to me,
As loving you
I found myself.

We were happy,
Living in the lives of each one,
long time ago.

We were happy,
In an ordinary day,
Perfumed ,
By the softness,
Fragance of the love.

One afternoon when the sun and the breeze caress you gently.

An afternoon with no pain, not sorrow.

An afternoon where everything is what it should be.

An afternoon with you.

An afternoon that stayed forever.

I learned from you to be valiant,
Looking into your eyes,
I found myself in a forest of dreams.

I learned to touch you,
Looking far away, at the bottom of the sea.
I learned that night,
That irreplaceable night,
That my hand-stripped in your soft hands.

I learned to find you,
hen you are and are not,
When we are lonely,
And you forget me,
When you return,
With love or without,
Because there is no end,
There never will be.

A kiss that came earlier,
after nineteen thousand hours waiting.

From your body and from your lips,
from your fingers and from your hands,
from your naked thighs,
your heart, and mine.

A kiss, the unknown sea that my trembling hand touched
while you pretended to sleep.

A kiss that impregnated my body for three days,
but no one remembered.

A kiss, that stays with me,
in this and the coming world.


A kiss that vanished from you by the time,
the only way reconciled,
two men sharing their lips,
and one loved.

.
.
Search instead of happiness the wholeness.

Because one is passed soon, while the other transforms, and gives meaning to your life.

When one discovers the things that make you whole man, has solved all the other.

I discovered the love of a man when I had thirteen and since then everyone has been clarified and filling that space and has made me a whole person.

My first loves were friends, then I started to choose and include more than them.

Become whole man is a journey that only clarifies experience it.
Only one person, neither is the answer.

The age is not enough either

They meet on a little river of the web.

And both choose the friendship of the earth and the moon.

The fragrance of his smiles, were the frontiers of that planet.

One day the young knew, that his friend was a poet.

The words he used were tender ribbon of pure love.

May be, he was too young for that encounter: not at all, he was brave.

Obviously, he didn’t know that his friend’s songs were for him.

And something you don’t know…

That their first encounter was in Granada seven hundred of years ago.

And today as usually, they feel lovely and happy.

This is as another faithfully time to time encounter for them.

But not,each of them were ignoring,

that theirs worlds shall not be the same,

after this day,

after this encounter.

.
.
.
We loved  few seconds.No one chooses us.

That first night he requested photos of my bed and my body in the shower.

He knows the  interval's seconds of each answer when we were on chat.

And wanted to hear my voice, although  didn't know anything about him.

But I did.

Not sure if he was one of those ghosts that roam through social networks, without a face or voice.

What was his name? I don't remember it.

But I've never felt so loved.

"I am not ready to be yours".

Was his last word that afternoon.

I never saw him again.

.
.
I wanted to tell you that I'll be here until Jan. 12, a symbolic number for me.
I've enjoyed seeing and caress you with my looks.

Since I discovered that I could love a man from my thirteen, a few times I found the enigma of men like you.

Of certain, we are on the side opposite in terms of tastes, but that is always so.

Nobody loves things that prefer the others, but to the others who love, such differences disappear.

I get out of this place because in the two months I've been here I perceive as a place of ****** exchange than anything else. Which is not bad, but definitely is not for me.

I've never believed in Princes Blue, but somehow you have been that for me.

I wish you luck, but I think a sensible person search and emotionally balanced, here is unlikely.

Places like this, stealing innocence that one carries within.

Your poem is still very popular on the site.

When your image come back to me, after days when I never again see you, maybe will change it a bit, still I believe you deserve a better choice.

One of the greatest Jews master  says that it is very easy to move someone out of your life, it is difficult to bring it to you. I believe that is true.

I do not try to attract you near to me, really, but the love that I think must join two men, but to any persons whose goal in life is the fullness, and not the happiness. I've never believed in happiness.

I leave you my mail if someday you want to know something.

You can not give me the love that I've given you Denni, simply because it is an individual creation, such as a painting, a sculpture or a
Symphony, as one made inspired by something or someone. In this case you have been that for me and wanted you to know it.

There is something in you of tremendous beauty, don't know what really that is.

Or Yes, I know...
Is...you...
You,
as you had been to me.

It was December 2012, wasn't it?
A hard, cold wind covered the Twin Cities.

Just from the beginning, all happened with causality, and their first met was in that store.

He asked something so simple, but without that question, their encounter  was lost in the millions of simple details that every hour,
only pass through the time.

He was driving under snow and almost no light that night,
It happens accidentally he tries to kiss his beautiful lips, but he had not the courage to accept.

Before now, it is certain and this encounter, was the beginning of a long, long journey, writing by an unknown.

He loved him for almost three years
and he was, for sure,
his most intimate friend.

Not for all his life as he liked,
but inside his mind and his soul,
he will be forever, what he wanted.

.
.
That I can no longer be on your side, and I know it.
I know, that you don't want to keep hurting me.
I know, that I love you in a way and you in another.
As well, you've struggled to understand it and,
have not been able to reconcile that in you.
we can't change who we are.
but stay, your smile and tenderness are on me.

You know, possibly we never we'll see each other once more,
Even less, from where you got the strength to stay away?

Yield your body who you want,
and learn to love from her.
I didn't come into your life to be compared.
I am not comparable.
I am what you knew.
I was for you and I was for myself.
I learned to be a man, when I started to love you.

Please, take care of yourself, Cesar.
And once in a while don't forget me.

Here I am,
Discovering myself into your eyes,
Wishing to kiss the taste of your mouth,
Hearing  your voice,
And smell the fragrance of your body,
Whatever it is.

Here is your hair as the wind touches the sea,
A promise we almost remember,
But naked as our trembling hands.

Here we are, one into one another:
A never lost time in your life Cesar.

The poem was far away and returned from so many deserts he was.

In solitude, he toured the country  in the half the world and between sea and sea and two oceans, but also the same everywhere.

But he never desisted because wanted to find something more.

Again, the poem went more and more away and kept looking even he traveled missed from one place to another.

Finally, decided to return to the edge of his beginning travel.

Perplexed I read his final writing:... "Behind the Galaxy Edge, speaks  indigent the same caveman "...

When you leave from my heart,
I will think of you.
As you were and  you are.

When you leave, I will close my heart.

Talmud says, those,
who **** a single person,
are a ****** of the entire world.

I prefer to say,
he who love a simple man,
had loved the entire universe.

That was what I did when we sleep that night,
Cesar.

The Sun, at sunset,
And the landscape that fades into  trembling reds.

His strong hands, and
His others dreams.

Without his clothes,
Maybe he did, the same as always does, over and over.

Thoughts he forgets himself,
his voice and the expressions of his eyes.

A memory, endless echoes of a sweet love,
that began with a casual encounter.

Was   only a moment,
But he never stopped loving him,
His little mouse, as he called.

As the time goes and come back,
He remembers those years and those days.

And that night and that morning,
when he wakes up,
with a kiss on his lips.


He didn't know what to do,
and he never knows what to do,
because in front of the love,
nobody knows what to do,
Never,
Ever.

Gray the pavement that in no place stops.
Blue dim the horizon in the sky.
The murmur of silence.
The terrible encounter with what is not already.
For these silent streets and among these trees without leaves
one day the love blossoming between you and me.
Without knowing it, that friendship was our courtship,
but your own fears took your life.
That is my pain and my sadness.
I do not know where you're going
I have to miss you,
remembering as you were.
My beautiful and delicate
crazy cat as you ever call me.

Doesn't matter if your answer is yes,
Doesn't matter if your answer is not.

I came not for your yes,
no for your not.

I came for me,
for myself.
I came for you,
for yourself.

And I finally found me,
And I finally found you,
Do whatever you like with my love Adam...

From one night and one sunset,
From the beginning and the end.
From a goodbye left in my eyes,
From that Aurora when the silence
Caress your hair
From that moment,
Asleep and awake,
With your clothes or without them.
From those friendly fleeting days.
From that moment.
From all our smiles,
And your eyes when waking up.
From all these things,
My dreams are made

Only his memories remain,
but he does not know how to keep them.

Nor should they be forgotten.

And in their dreams,
the scores of a music
that their bodies
made the silence
in a sunrise.

From his eyes,
the certainty blurs landscapes,
and without knowing,
still, love that sea
and its waves,
caressing everything.

And though his eyes,
never knew shyness,
those unknown worlds,
surprised him,
and from the bottom of his being,
something emerged,
and he knew,
that would be forever.

And then that language on his lips,
the unpronounceable words,
encompassing everything.

I do not know, how to live without you,
was the last message he left.

But maybe, nobody knows,
when he is without clothes
in front of the trees,
evoke that fragrance
and then beauty,
have the courage to return.

An evening,
In the soft light of Autumn, and the gentle breeze caressing your hair.
An evening with the unexpected gift of having you,
without beginning or end,
When we were what we wanted to be.

An evening in the window of time,
who comes back without us knowing,
whith the courage and love,
when we sailed together.

One is born again every day,
and every afternoon and sunrise.

And the dreams come and sometimes,
stay with us, but they must leave,
because there are other travelers and they are in need as well.

We leave and return to other paths, yes
This is the endless aroma of life,
of our sunrises and our sunsets.

The heart of this trip reminds us,
that each person has their own itinerary
and the best we can do,
is being an illumination for them,
never obstacle or darkness to their trips.

Everything has changed
and even without seeing again,
They did not forget their faces.

The force that made them meet,
Has not ceased.

It is as if they were born together,
but at different times.

And the day they separated,
It was not a break,
Only the decision not to return more,
To the meeting point.

The firmness to live and never leave is done,
Is the way that somebody chose once and for all.

Although their first encounter,
was casual, no one else has seen them together again.

One gets up and sleep,
And at night the name resounds,
and It is his strength,
In front of this emptiness.

A certain loneliness dresses the day,
No more text messages arrived,
No one expects him that night after work.

Tough,he traveled for a better life.
certainly got,but something unexpected comes,
those stranger's feelings
that changed his life forever.

Now, in his passport,
the invisible seal of an unknown country.

Even all is the same, as he when arrived,
the wind is still blowing cold.
the trees without leaves.

The leaving time is coming,
but nobody watched him walk away.
only in his memory the tender kiss,
that woke him up into another dream.

It is uncertain,
whether is going to live or dies.
In the distance,
his wife recalling those love texts.
that she never understood.
of course, it was impossible.
that a man loves him more than her.

After five years, they are leaving.
The diffuse city lights is behind,
the fortune they got and his husband's friend,
that man who changed their lives forever,
is going with her, even she doesn't like...

He is his trees and their fruits,
He is the kiss that has never given,
He is his mouth and his bare hands.
He is the coast and the sea,
The boat that takes through life.
Their silent looks and their sunsets.
The symbol of his happiness and his innocence.
The symphony that God created for him.
He is the silent tenderness.
Of that kiss that never could return.
He is who arrived, forever.

I thought of you last night.
I thought about your words, what you say and how you say it.
Last night I thought of you, just you. And it was a tenderness impossible to forget.
Your skin evoking ivory that I have never seen and your sweet look and firm eyes.
Your face and your hands with short fingers, almost round like the banks of the moon.
I thought of you and my crazy heart wanted to tell you how you are from my eyes.
Today maybe we could be together, and it would be just a flash of what comes endlessly when you speak to me from your voice.
Last night I thought you asleep sounding with your astonished eyes and your hair in silence.
And I would have liked to think your body without clothes, contemplating it silently like soft waves of a sea asleep in an endless wind.
Last night I found you like any other day and you were as you always wanted to be, just between the two
a stream running through the woods until another dawn.
And the perfect edge of your lips and the music of your eyes awakening the innocent eyes of a child in a world where everything is for him. And at that moment an unknown butterfly flutters from another spring and a golden door open, more beautiful and unimaginable and the moment will remain forever and oblivion can never erase it.
Last night I thought about you and without knowing it I stopped being me because somehow I was one with you too.

Last night I thought of you, your words.

In ivory never seen as your skin. In the sweet look in your firm eyes, and your hands, and round fingers like the banks of the moon.
Last night I thought of you and you were a naked sea hugging the wind, And like any day, you were what you wanted to be. And a stream ran through us in the woods until dawn.

Last night I thought of you as a child of a world where everything was for him. And memory is indelible, even in the face of forgetting.

Last night I thought about you and without knowing it I stopped being me, and somehow I went with you, one too.

There is no pride, but the voice of two.
The voice that sounded in Homer on his Trojan horses.
The voice of two walking, without their hands together, in the Agora.
The voice that brings unknown scents.
The voice of a tender flower that is born in another copper leaf.
The voice that remains innocent in those who sat together in their elementary school.
The voice that becomes an autumn breeze for two, not many.
The voice you began to hear at age eleven.
The voice without perfumed disguises, the VOICE.

It was a clear night,
Without words.
They sailed a time and a sea
And found themselves in the calm that is between two raging waves.
From that day,
He wishes to know who they were.

He will return to the place where never was,
in a day without nights, he will return.

On the last day of winter,
with the white ceiling illuminating his eyes.
He will return.

In the morning when he is absent,
with the same look when they met.

When not one hear they,
When no one feels,
When no one looks at them.


With his hands of leaves and tree,
With a forgotten name,
He will come back.

In the Olam-Haba that he just knew,
on his own Olam-Haba,
They will return.

Your Voice, oh your Voice!

Where does it come from?
Is born in you, but not from you, it is before you.

It is the voice of Homer and the winged horses,
Penelope waiting in endless time.

Your voice, the voice of finding yourself in unknown scents.

Your voice, the adventure of two who sail and space become one.
The petal of a tender flower, emerging from a copper leaf.

Your navigating voice, without binnacle or forgetfulness.
The innocence of Cafe Camila that will remain forever.

Your voice, the breeze of a sea that moistens the bodies
and perhaps, in fifteen seconds they will become immortal.

To William.

His memories stay, but he doesn't know how to save them or forget either.

It is unlikely to remember why or when it happened.

Only through his eyes, the geography of a landscape that unintentionally continues loving and those caresses have not gone as he would have liked.

They are barely part of a language without words, and the value of deciphering was not found.

Only in the twilight of the day, the perfume of those afternoons returns and with him the soft voice of indelible hours.

Certainly, the fear or courage to return to be has been invincible.

I'll wait for you wherever you decide to go, until a gentle wind opens the world that hasn't forgotten you.

I'll be standing by the unnamed river during the peaceful afternoon, in the water where your sister saw you swimming, but not in those waters.

I'll be waiting for you on the first day at sunset since the past cannot be erased.

I'll be waiting when the inner child within you awakens.

When the lamp of darkness that seduced and is with you,
will be transformed into light.

Perhaps at that dawn, our paths will cross again and we will reunite and be one again.

One who lost his gaze
and at night
Sing in solitude.
where no one answers.


One who entered
Through the door
of the double river
That intersects.
friendship and love.
And without remorse
darkened
its crystal clear waters


One that no one remembers,
not even the trees and the nights
of the small wall of a patio,
where they arrived
the hours from another clock,
and the moon that made them fall in love
with its invisible music


One who does not want to be remembered
because he hurt
with an iron sword
Who loved him.