Poesía Sin Recitar

I keep writing poetry that you won’t read
My bed still misses you, and so does my skin
Honey-colored eyes, I still miss you so much
Two winters have passed, and I’m still waiting for your return

I’ve searched for the scent of your hair on other bodies
But there’s nothing else, no matter how much I look, I can’t find it
And I wish I could stop wanting to have you
But my pride won’t let me, apparently

I got lost in the depths of your eyes
And even now, I can’t find myself, I’m looking for a lock
Emergency exits, I’m breaking down
Damn depression is eating me alive

I don’t even know, but here I am still
I don’t know if I can’t love you or if you can’t be with me
It’s so hard to stay or to want me
Make up some excuse, some reason to see me

So I can lose myself again in your gaze
Not having you clearly means having nothing
Despite all the pain, if you come back, I want you twice as much
Despite your actions, I’m still waiting for your arrival

Oh, I’m still waiting for your arrival
Despite your actions, I’m still waiting for your arrival
So much damage from the past
That if you come back to the present, your harm won’t affect me anymore

(It's not that I die of love, I die of you, love, of, of love of you)
(Of my urgency, of my skin, of you, of my soul, of you, and of my mouth)
(And of how unbearable I am without you)
(I die of you and of me, I die of both)
(Of us, of that torn apart game)
(I’m dying, you’re dying, we’re dying)