Chavela

I would be capable of killing
Counting the sand of the sea
But there are things a man should not count

My lips sealed
By your cold kisses
Sleep forever
Under your parquet

Your nails hurt
My blood is very little
It only reaches
For a wall

The intention is not good
The mistake different
The best perfume
Does not change with the skin

The clouds of May
Cry inconsolably
When you turn around
I will no longer be there