It was half-past moon when I heard the sobbing
echoing through the walls and raining upon my window.
I could hear your quivering lips on the other side!
Why were you shy Maria? Why were you afraid?
Of coming to me?
Did you think I’d sprinkle your tears
on the wounds you made on me?
I can hear your smell at the door…
I put my hand on the knob and feel
the heat of your skin…
I have been standing where you left me Maria
I’ve felt the sting of all those men making love to you.
I have seen your broken shadow twitching under the bedspread!
And every time I wanted to dip my fingers in your chest!
And pluck the black-hole from your heart!
But now that you’re at the door Maria
I’d lick your voice clean of all the sobs.
Pluck stars from the nest of darkness
and plant them in your hair!
So that every time the wind kisses your neck,
a song is born in the black-hole of your heart.
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