A little thoughtfulness is always precious.
What is in the breast, behind the bra?
Alone in the breast is pity which has no taste.
So strange! -
becoming her doubt, hiding in the billows of her hair.
It was for them, for you, and for everybody,
but it was not enough!
And the first time, and the last chance …
nobody saw when you arrived, with the last chance in tow.
But you say only killers know freedom,
those without pattern,
those who never ask,
“Que pasa?”
or
“How are things?”
Those who do not, who never
say,
“I alone, I amused, have forgotten that
which night alone makes good.”