El legado de Ovidio

I am the time that sleeps in your arms
And whispers that the present tomorrow will be past
I wake up cuddled on the edge of other hands
Knowing that in your future my name has already been forgotten

I am the lighthouse on your lips if you mention me
The light that draws you when the door is ajar
The night fell and I was a flash on your carpet
Because now I live as a prisoner of your shadow

I am the fire that ignites in your gaze
The spark behind the stone, the fire behind life
I embrace the ocean and you watch me compassionately
As I continue to condemn the crackling of your pupils

I am the wind that tousles your hair
Hurricane in your insomnia and breeze in your troubles
One day I carried lily petals
And now you try to prevent my breath from raising dust

I am the tree that bowed before your dance
Painting with its branches a wave of hopes
If your tears are rains, I turned into leaf litter
Behind spring, autumn seeks revenge

I am the book of an incomplete trilogy
With which you traveled to a specific fantasy
I went from solving puzzles in your restless mind
To being a jumble of dust in your library

I am the voice that climbs tentatively on your neck
And stops at your ear practicing penance
A murmur that breaks the schemes of your beauty
Until your drowned voice silences my words

I am the footprint you tattoo in the mud
Breathing after the steps that elevate your existence
If the clouds go into debt, my trail fades away
Because when the storm falls, the path reflects absence

I am the music that is born if you touch me
Another lost whistle in the requiem of your mouth
While I wait for you to trace another note
I become a violin with the fourth string broken

I am the moon reflected on your hips
Sewing your garter with stardust
You look with sorrow at my form when I am full
Knowing that I am fleeting and a new one will come

I am the key that turns if sleep comes to you
To drown routine in an eternal paradise
If you undress my complexes, I am still in the hands of Saint Peter
If you change the lock, I open the gate to hell

I am the bullet resting in the chamber
Of the mattress of a gun that resides in your drawer
You caress the handle and I beg for mercy
For if you pull the trigger, you cut off my breath

And if I am time, I can make your days longer
And if I am the lighthouse, you can use my halo as a guide
And if I am the fire, I can warm your cold evenings
And if I am the wind, I can learn another melody
And if I am the tree, I can give you golden flowers
And if I am the book, I can give you the treasure map
And if I am the voice, I can put the finishing touch on your choir
And if I am the footprint, I can show you the way to everything
And if I am the music, I can invent a new chord
And if I am the moon, I can serve as your transport
And if I am the key, I can show you fields of bronze
And if I am the bullet, I can write your name on the skin