The lights are shelled in this still night,
tomorrow is not written,
I still remember the heat of that skin,
and the light tremor that illuminated it.

Satin, silk,
soft,
warm,
beautiful.

And a dark almost black,
that cold nothing,
a dark Sun,
almost an eclipse.

The cooing of a voice,
the sound of a skin,
the light of a glance,
the breath of a being.

Ever play,
other times I dreamed,
with the warm sand on my feet,
and the view to the horizon.


I ever knew,
I once lost,
I have loved
and surely I will die.

There is a world out there,
and an infinity here,
of time I do not count,
that counts today for me.