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domingo, 10 de julio de 2011

I don´t remember

  I do not remember the colour of your eyes.  
I can´t remember your skin, or your eyes.
I can´t remember your laugh, or the way
you have
of speak or shut up.
I can´t remember your hands,
those hands that
slowly, slowly,
sometimes recreate
to draw silences.
I don´t know how you were.
You see? I can´t remember.
All is well then.
Except my memory.

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