Punto y Coma - Mónica Laví

Seduce me with your commas, with your spaced caresses, your breathable breath and your continuous daring; place me the point and top to change the caresses for long kisses and whispered phrases mouth to mouth. Make a point and followed to slide into me and contemplate my nakedness on your bed, now interrupt with scripts to drop a compliment on my body and its mark on yours - look at the waist and the sinking in the waist, the rise at the hip, the long extension of the legs finished off by a foot that you cannot resist kissing -. Attack me without my rejection and torture me with the haughtiness of your desire dragging me far away (at the edge of the abyss between parentheses and without commas please), now draw your ellipsis ... - Damn trio of points - that nameless space is not reached.

A full stop to calm the trembling of my body and smile at you at the same time that you give me the sparkling wine in a glass to drink. I erase my questions. A whole prelude to resume your meals and give me the humidity of your mouth and the softness of your breath on my ears, neck, neck, shoulders; attack with semicolons again to search with your finger a congested clitoris, pass your tongue between the hidden lips and savor my secretions - steal them between dashes - and poke again in my fiery center occupying it, holding the ascent Imminent! with exclamation marks, the inevitable ejaculation ... until I end the ellipsis and empty all of me and collapse exhausted, relieved and loving in my pleased body.

Again a full stop to sleep on my chest and put an end to the quotation mark "act" which in this case is a love event without any hint of acting.

If I'm wrong, I congratulate you on your mastery of punctuation.

Absent - César Vallejo

Absent! The morning that I go

further afield, to the Mystery,

as following inevitable line,

your feet will slip into the graveyard.

Absent! The morning I go to the beach

from the sea of ​​shadow and the quiet empire,

like a gloomy bird I go,

the white pantheon will be your captivity.

It will have become night in your eyes;

and you will suffer, and then you will take

penitent lacerated whites.

Absent! And in your own sufferings

has to cross between a cry of bronzes

a pack of regrets!


Beautiful - Eduardo Lizalde

And if one of those angels

I will suddenly clasp over his heart,

I would succumb drowned by its existence

more powerful

Rilke, again

Listen to me, beautiful,

I can't stand his love

Look at me, observe how

his love hurts and destroys.

If you were a little less beautiful,

if I had a defect somewhere,

a mutilated and obvious finger,

something harsh in the voice,

a little scar next to those lips

of fruit in motion,

a freckle in the soul,

an imperceptible bad brushstroke

in the smile ...

I could tolerate it.


Farewell - Jorge Luis Borges

Between me and my love they have to get up

three hundred nights like three hundred walls

and the sea will be a magic between us.

There will be only memories.

Oh worthwhile afternoons

hopeful nights of looking at you,

fields of my way, firmament

that I am seeing and losing ...

Definitive like a marble

your absence will sadden other afternoons.

And our bread - Juan Carlos Onetti

I only know about you

the gioconda smile

with parted lips

the mistery

my stubborn obsession

to unveil it

and go stubborn

and surprised

feeling your past

I only know

the sweet milk of your teeth

the placid and mocking milk

that separates me

and forever

of imagined paradise

of the impossible tomorrow

of peace and silent bliss

coat and shared bread

of some everyday object

that I could call


You are, love - Efraín Huerta

You are, love, the arm with wounds

and the false footprint on a sky.

You are the one who falls asleep, lonely,

in the small forest of my chest.

You are, love, the flower of the false name.

You are the old crying and sadness

loneliness and the river of virtue,

the brutal flap of insomnia

and the sacrifice of a blind night.

You are, love, the flower of the false name,

You are a fragile nest, poison enclosure,

Merciless pity, fallen angel,

mourning adolescent candor

That it had passed like a dream

You are, love, the flower of the false name.

You are what kills me, what drowns

the small ideal of living.

You are hopeless, sad statue

of dust nothing more, of deaf envy.

You are, love, the flower of the false name.

A love letter - Julio Cortázar

Everything I would like from you

it's so little deep down

because deep down is everything,

like a passing dog, a hill,

those things of nothing, everyday,

spike and hair and two clods,

the smell of your body,

what you say about anything,

with me or against me,

all that is so little

I what I want from you because I love you.

That you look beyond me,

that you love me with violent disregard

of tomorrow, that the cry

of your delivery crashes

in the face of an office manager,

and that the pleasure that we invent together

be another sign of freedom.

Videos of distant love poems by famous poets

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