Her,, that with her kisses polishes the sharpened edges of my anguish of glass.

Her,,, a disarmed prophet that without charging me anything confronts all of my fears.

Futile is before her all of my silence, because she hears everything that I don’t say

She makes baron the argument in which I hide until she finds me, mirror of a love made distant

Her,, skin is the space in which I live

Within the desert in which my faith drags it self

she is the reason that I keep going

Her,, that without surrendering insists in giving me dreams that my reason resists

Her,, that fills with hugs the cynical spaces where my shame exists

What I once forgot she finds for me,

and with profound loyalty she returns it to me

And even so that I’m a jigsaw puzzle that torments her

She always figures me out

So round the labyrinth of our own uncertainty is

Our steps become our punishment

Instead of my anger intimidating her

She consumes it with me

Her the shadow of my shadow

Her the voice of my words

Her the blood of my wound

Her that everyday astonishes me with

With Her school girl eyes that nourish me

while intimidate me

By Alcides Becker Apolayo ® ® 2001