Para .

Last time I saw you
We had just split in two.
You were looking at me.
I was looking at you.
 
You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize,
'Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes.
 
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.
That's the pain,
Cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love.
 
So we wrapped our arms around each other,
Trying to shove ourselves back together.
We were making love,
Making love.
 
It was a cold dark evening,
Such a long time ago,
When by the mighty hand of Jove,
It was the sad story
How we became
Lonely two-legged creatures,
 
It's the story of
The origin of love.
That's the origin of love.

 [Si no te tardas mucho, te espero toda la vida. ]

M.A

A él tampoco le gustan las cosquillas. Sus lunares me distraen de toda posible contradicción, de los paradigmas del universo y los axiomas de mi conciencia. No lo he podido ajustar a que quepa en una única palabra, porque todo me remite a él; al seseo que lleva entre los dientes y me hace perder cuentas, universos, funciones de onda.
Descubre la cortina de sus horrorosamente largas pestañas para mirarme: un potencial delta se forma en el pozo de mi vientre y partículas indistinguibles, que nada tienen de mariposas, me hacen cosquillas. Me gusta pensar que vibramos en la misma frecuencia, que las soluciones en nuestras fronteras son continuas. Que estamos hechos el uno para el otro.