So, I wrote this months ago.
(I am Brazilian, sorry for the grammar errors).



In another life, I wish we, by chance, under all circumstances, during a walk in the streets of Venice, worked.
In this life, I just wanted to know, certainly, the sky.
(there is no heaven).
Oh, the roof of your mouth. Neither Lilith herself dare and have reddish lips so kissable as yours. My darling, my darling, for daring to kiss you, why I dare to accept your kisses if they not come with signature below? If they don't make me believe that you will not get past the door, you don't have other bodies to fill with yours? Don't accuse me of coldness, don't point those brown eyes towards mine, I would be guilty in one second. I would be guilty in one million. Of what? Of what?
(to do everything right but in a wrong way)
Stop with those meddling, how can I flee from your words, your blues? I swim against the currents of the sea but all thy waves suck me back. Longing for a little air, screams drown under water while your hands hurt mine hands, you cry on my knees for a little more soul. Save my soul, teach me to see anything else, any other point other than the signals of your body. Teach me how to make touchable any hope, any flow of light in which I seem to believe. I don't believe enough.
(I believe in us)
Is us. We are on us. We are just barely from miss, of forgetting who we are. Tear me in fury, how forget what I've never seen? How will I remember who I've been? What I will offer you beyond my nightstand, my walls streaked with another life that isn't who I was now, isn't who I just be, isn't what I'll be when my eyes blink. Hold my tears, transforms it in any poison, dissects my heart that lies from the coldness of our touchs. Hot. Hot. Affects me. Flustered me. Your flesh burning my fingers when I light them in your innocence.
Pluck of my thorns, no use. You know, they insist on growing again. They insist on tearing any skin, stick in any bubble of feeling who want to pluck me from the land, that want to pluck me from this dirty ground, my particular wilderness filled only with my non-fungible loneliness. How I will become anything if I am not anything without...
(your love)
Don't gasket my petals from the floor.
I am the death. You're the healing. And you don't always solve but you save me. Save me.
Frees me from myself.



- Shayra Polley.