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!
