Feel the warmness as I disappear from your native landscapes;
feel it, as I draw a sea of fire in someone else’s back.
Feel it, it is yours! As it always was.

This is my way to bring back my blood
and melt the ice you seeded on the inside;
the only way I have to heal the muscles you defeated.

There was so much warmness when I found you;
you claimed you confused step with dreams
as you walked among the crowds;
my sad man of broken wings! I wanted you to fly as I carried you in my shoulders,
as I rested in your own silence.

But my selfish heart wanted so much more.

For me, Inside Me
I longed for the warmness
When all you had was a cold song to put me into sleep.

Now you are far, and I don’t know what I’m exactly playing.
Warmness is my fruit for resignation;
A grain of dust from your locked soul.
Warmness!
Or whatever else you weren’t man enough to give me,
That same warmness it’s now in both my hands
And my lower back.

It feels different, it is not yours.
It feels different , they are not mine.

Regret won’t give us anything
but the chance for one of us to dress on the invisible;
the force of looking at each other
and fetter us with the coldness of my blood slipping through your hands.

I’m still napping on your velveteen lips; I hope you do know that,
And I won’t wake up until you ask me with that shy smile of yours
to come back; for the sake of love or warmness,
for the sake of love or death.