I’ll write
enough to tell you that I have
I have tied my memories to a chest of drawers.
That if I laugh or cry, I know about you.
That love leaves us alone and naked in this room,
and it hurries away.
That what’s left is no longer important,
time doesn’t wait for it.
I’ll write
that my having lost bothers me, and I know it.
That nights spent thinking of you are changing me;
and the life I lead, I don’t know what it is.
I will write
that for you, mistakes don’t come naturally with him.
Do his hands really warm you?
And your mother is happy, I know why.
Love leaves us alone and naked in this room,
then it hurries away.
And what’s left is no longer important,
time doesn’t respect.
Love leaves us alone and naked in this room,
then it goes away, it hurries away.
And you find yourself alone and with no more hope,
this time too.
This time too…
Love leaves us alone and naked in this room,
then it hurries away.
And what’s left is no longer important,
time doesn’t respect.
Love leaves us alone and naked in this room,
then it goes away, it hurries away.
And the days shared among sweetness.
Time doesn’t respect.
I’ll write
your legs, your smiles, and your no’s;
your caresses, your looks, and your but’s.
What about… would you come back here to me?
A bit.