Like those lovers discovered in the midst of passion,
rediscovered centuries later on a distant beach.
This is how we live, this is how we die.
Escaping from strange glances,
of meaning and the signifier
Moving away into the light of day,
so as not to remember the passions of a finite love.
I wish they would imprison us with stones, mud and sand,
forever covered from the sun,
forced to look at each other in the peaceful darkness,
from the grave, from the bed, from the prison.
Timeless and no need to wake up.
I wish they would deny us everyday excuses like they do.
repeated with parted lips and blue circles under their eyes
I wish they would exile us and even forget us.
I wish we would wake up to other times,
other people, other languages
and we were enraptured by the unfinished caress
we believed his story, our story,
forgetting the clumsy, lustful, and lascivious truth.
By Gabrielle
EN 
ES_ES