To a cup of sins

fit for the arms of the needy

you are invited.

And while you have one single pleasure

like a lipstick incapable of kissing

I will have devoured you:

raw to the point of anguish

desperate like a deferred desire

From above the pillow

I’ll pick for you:

a cloud

just back from her aspiration

disappointed

and a sigh

left suspended on the raised arms;

maybe to prevent the sky from a sudden fall

Only remind me - On another morning-

To take off my wet forgiveness

and pass with a new pair of shoes

by Eden

which will not accommodate all these