I fancy being cruel to you when you feel you are superior, in a burst of selfishness, and then you make me hate you. I feel like being cruel to you as you go mental, thinking the world is against you, and I pay for it without saying a word, while lying to myself you will change. It gets on my nerves that you suddenly run away without any reason and I struggle finding you in the city… and that pays with cruelty. Cruel I am every time you say you love me and you know by heart you are not trustworthy and you will deceive me just today. Far more evil I become at the moment you come back as innocent as a baptized child, pretending nothing was your fault, as that’s the way you were brought up, spoilt Lesbia. But I will be extremely cruel when I can’t reach your mouth, your arms, your body. Crueler I’ll be if you don’t blush when I stare at your eyes and I pronounce the fateful words “I love you”. And above all, I’ll go cruel when you are far from me, unable to receive every drop of passion my body brims with. And, if I lack them, your green eyes, pure as they are, will be my last two reasons to aim my fury at you, and probably a reason for the deepest despair.
1 comentario:
Yo queria ser cruel con Paris y la lluvia por mantenerme lejos de donde quiera que estes... He ido guardando las caricias, los besos, las miradas, de todos estos dias en mi maleta y al final me ha costado demasiado cerrarla porque habia acumulado una cantidad impresionante y ya no me cabian dentro de mi cuerpo tampoco las ganas de estar contigo.
Quiero que me enseñes a escribir tan bien en Ingles pero que alejes de nosotros las razones que te hagan pensar en la crueldad, que para ti solo quiero mañanas soleadas en medio de una playa de arena tibia.
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