I can trace your love through the scars on my body:
The place where your knife first touched my thigh: the caresses of metal, and silver kisses transformed me into your canvas, an abstract painting of red and purple splashing pale skin.
The night was long, when your teeth first scattered their marks over my neck; You guided my fingers along the grooves in my skin like as one guides the fingers of a blind man at the Western Wall.
I did not fear you then:
I was too intoxicated by the smell of my own blood, slightly salty, like the taste of your tears.
As vezes, eu choro quando eu penso de voce, mas nao tenho saudade - choro de raiva, porque o que que voce fazei na meu corpo, voce qui prometei de mi amar pra toda vida? Choro porque nao posso falar, porque voce bate minhas palavras, como voce bate minha alma - mas nao meu coracao, qui ja ta quebrado quando nacio, quando saiu de voce como uma paloma trista, que precisa tentar de voar sem asas.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
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