the dream goes off || Original Poem

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Peaceful weather,
Although incomprehensible to the inescapable rare days,
in which falling sunshine greeting me,
perhaps by divinity or enchantment, what has to be,
Through my hands.,
Silver time, after so much hardship

In the Labyrinth, with my more desires I find myself,
pushed by who knows that,
Or attracted perhaps,
because of the immeasurably plethora of this place.
but her senseless hands fenced,
The knees of her bend when exhausted remained,
for her attempts to eradicate my customized indication.

Pulling back , at this time,
Reflexes is not reliable to let it proliferate,
Then the rare days would not go back or take over today,
Deceiving fiercely that benign enchantment.

A vile lying at me between bedsheets and pillows,
Tied hands at times,
I can not do more than wandering with the head down,
Because of this incongruous deprivation.
I'm just a body,
Moved by my own instinct,
there are no laugh,
or willing to follow,
the dream goes off.

And she knocks on the door,
The proximity of our bodies,
sitting at the table with a good coffee,
Thursday nights a glass of wine and a reading that makes us oblivion,
Embrace ourselves and sleep...

The plants in our house,
The seaside meek dog,
The cat that rapids its purring,
a leap running to try to catch,
Our clothes on the clothesline,
she cook,
I humming our songs,
She writing, I painted.
I do not know how to not crave,
do not think about it,
the dream goes off...