I miss you so much, I'm always longing your touch.

y seguíamos con los ojos cerrados
sintiendo la fría brisa de diciembre
las luces a medianoche
recordándome que no estás aquí
que no estás acariciando mi cabello
y seguíamos faltándonos el respeto
por no estar juntos
por ser como somos y no permitirnos estar juntos

“es cuestión de ocasión”
dondequiera y como sea
no te dejaré ni por un segundo
pensar que la noche muere
que la luna brilla
y nosotros no estamos juntos
mirando las mismas estrellas
preguntándonos de dónde vino esto

estarás siempre
serás parte de mi
incluso estando lejos
estarás cerca de mí

får du kolde fødder? sikke et varmt hjerte

   indvendig blæst, hul

             rusker bladende af træerne,
                 efterladt på gaderne

          tomme, snørklede blodårer leder til et støvet midtpunkt; centrum
     forladt, drænet for mennesker, for energi
                  overgangen til vinter, livsløst, koldt, nøgne træer

          cementen med mærker fra alle fodgængere; alle dem, du omgås
  sætter præg på dig

          som en krakeleret glasrude, der kun
               mangler ét prik
      for at brase sammen
               så alle omkring vinduet kan skære sig på fragmenterne, mindes
dit sammenbrud
      din modtagelighed
skrøbelig

årstiden reflekterer dit kollaps
     min næsetip fryser og jeg mindes din konstant kolde tilstand

          at gå gennem en kold og ensom gade
             november kommer, dernæst de koldeste måneder

     må hellere skaffe en vinterjakke
og håbe på forår

latterligt,
        let
                        leende, lur mig
  legende
larm

lukkede øjne
      lodret, levende

                                     løgner!, lup

larve, lukket

     luft, luk nu
        
                                 lolland? lutlandia

  lovgivning,
lærkesang

                levning; lev

It's been three years
since I was madly infatuated with you
with your hair (curly, long, dark)
your freckles (sprinkled across your face)
your nose (straight-bridged, strong)
your eyes (dark, warm)
your lips (smiling, laughing)
your voice (like a river, like molasses)

summer camp isn't the best time
to fall for a girl
for me
(and god, the secret had to stay that way)

but after three years
you're the only person from that summer
I still have on facebook

so it's been three years
since I was madly infatuated with you
(but if you wanted
I would be
still)

I've known you twice
in this life
and some things are always the same
(if you can say
always
about two people)
you're always vegan
and you have really great hair
and a love
and understanding
of art
that I can never hope to match
with my numbers and my equations
(like x = you + me is never one I can solve
because you need two equations to solve for two
variables
and you're always
variable
and sometimes I'm not even sure I know myself)

and I feel in the pit inside me like
we should be good friends
but maybe you don't need me
and maybe this connection
is only a one-way street
the way some people say they feel
connected
to celebrities

(I don't think I worship you
like you're famous
but there's some kind of worship
there
anyways, like you're a blinding star
and I'm a lump of rock
spit out by some minor moon
barely worth your notice, even though I
revolve around you)

and I never find out why it seems
like your heart always has to beat
a million miles away
from mine