The woman who is in my bed
Has not been twenty (years old) for a long time
Eyes encircled
By the years
By the loves
From day to day
The mouth worn
By kisses
Too often but
Too badly given
Her face sallow
Despite the make-up
Paler than a
Shadow on the moon
The woman who is in my bed
Has not been twenty for a long time
Her breasts too heavy
From too many loves
Do not carry
The name of lures.
The wearied body
Too much caressed
Too often but
Too badly loved
The bent back
Seem to carry
Memories
She had to flee
The woman who is in my bed
Has not been twenty for a long time
Do not laugh
Do not touch
Keep your tears
And your sarcastic remarks
When the night
Reunites us
Her body, her hands
Are offered to mine
And it is her heart
Covered in tears
and scars
that reassures me