martes, septiembre 28, 2010


This is not about you.
It’s about another man.
About other hands playing with my legs.
About other lips,
other words and other nights.

This is not about you.
Not about your hair, not about our past.
This is about waking up wrapped in new thoughts;
About another kind of lust,
another type of pleasure.

This is not about you;
It is not about forgetting you,
It is not about the task of getting over you.
or about the absence of you.
It’s about another man.

About the next years.
About being free and, apparently, still (damn!) attractive.
It is about worm beds and moist lips.
About desire, time and possibilities.
It’s about another man and what he might be able to do.

This is about discovering a new laughter,
About melting ice over other skins,
About new voices and new whispered sentences.
It is about fun, hunger and satisfaction.
It’s about all the little things another man will, probably, enjoy.

So, there.

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