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