HASTA UNA PRÓXIMA OPORTUNIDAD, AMIGOS

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The hours I spend thinking of you
Your face wakes me up.
I ramble
half asleep.
I restrict my eyes
as if this face were not mine.
I mentally make a to-do list:
wash, sweep, iron, forget you.

I shake the sheets,
but your absence from the bed
has made a hole the size of a body
and here in my chest
the days are a sharp, burning knife.

Slowly
I walk invisible,
between the hours that weigh,
turning my head,
every now and then,
in the wake of your perfume and your laughter.

The house seems strange to me.
Rubble, ruins of the past
and your cracked face
like an old fairground poster,
that's all that's left.

It's night and I go back to bed
I stare at the ceiling: it bleeds.
Overcome by your memories
I turn to water.
Tomorrow will be a good day to forget you...
....tomorrow