on the edge and above my own abyss,
caught in the recursion of this never-desire.
And if I could kill it,
I’d say that not desiring it
would be enough.
Then, stop!
Why this ambivalence of the heart?
If a desire is irresoluble,
I would escape from it
by simply not biting into it,
and be free of you and her, wouldn’t I?
The only kiss,
the one that makes desire rise
is the one that departs,
in haste or not,
and slips from your lips
until their absence is sure.
I am every woman,
every one, except her.
The soul’s composition
was always a canvas
empty, awaiting its destiny:
to be colored.
Interest became a Minotaur,
that incited me to cross you.
Your heart against mine
is a battle with no fields
and no time.
There will never be, yes,
never, two paradises alike
nor two desires the same;
since nothing and no one
are born from the same fire.