Platonico

Oh Plato, what a cruel curse you've placed upon us.

You bring me the idyllic love

And take away the interest of my affection.

All unloved love remains perfect

Suspended in glory and agony

It never has the chance to be tainted with reality.

Forever ocuppies a pedestal in my soul. 

Unloved love remains perfect

Salt of my soul

Preserved, yet dry.

Forever, unfulfilled.

Generations to come

Will studied it's carcass

And theorize what loving you

Could have been.

Just the same.

I found you again. 

Funny thing is that now you wear a different mask, 

Glide on different toys. 

On Babel's tower we are practically on the same floor.

Where once we embraced in a bathtub, 

now we have sunsets and rainstorms. 

Dont lay down with wet clothes on,

Hold that kiss, 

oh...my dreams...sem dormir

And at the end of the day,

There you are, 

Just the same. 

K-pax

Where it lays the reality of you?

Is it here, is it back there or even back when?

You float between my awareness and delirium, 

Bring truths that only existed within my soul. 

You drag the agony of the clocks

thru a field of shadows.

The softer you speak, the deeper you reach. 

Galaxies apart, still

close enough to feel your warmth, 

Our worlds collide. 

Will you ever know?

Will you ever know the songs I want to listen laying on your shoulders?

Will you ever know the poems I wrote you in the darkest of the night?

Will you ever know the funnies I wanted to share with you? 

Will you ever know the flavors I want to entice for your palate?

Will you ever know the laughs I imagined on your lips?

Will you ever know that ... I always knew it?

Flow

There is a very narrow river that divides the land of "shoulds" and the land of "wants", where it flows the waters of what it could have been.
On the right side I lay, scorched by the warmth of daily waitings.
On the wrong side you gaze,
splendid by the coolness of possibilities that will never have the chance to prove itself more than a dream.
And the waters of what it could have been flows.
To reach the other side seems just a matter of stretching your hands.
To reach you seems to be a matter of stretching back in time.
So close, yet so unreachable.
And the waters of what it could have been flows.