Today, I will not speak of love,
even if it is the best resource of the poet,
I will not remember those nights
of anxiety or desire;
I will not describe your hands, nor
those complicit hazel eyes,
that sought in me...certainties.


Today I will not speak of those days of hope
when I longed for your steps behind the door,
nor of plans for the future,
nor of tender words that sweetened
with poetry or any caress spent.


Today I will not remember your arms
that sheltered my body in
the face of my eternal fears.
Today I'm not going to talk about love,
its rhyme.
It's taken time!