Hacer el amor con otro

Waking up with him
by my side isn’t the same as being with you
it’s not that it’s wrong, not at all
but he’s still got some growing up to do, he’s almost a kid.
White like yogurt
without that fire you carry in your chest
fragile like a flower
nothing compared to my favorite wickedness.
Without your nails scratching my back,
without your hands squeezing me, everything changes,
without your poisoned tongue in my throat,
without your teeth that torture and sweeten, I feel nothing.
Making love with someone else, no, no, no,
it’s not the same thing, there are no pink stars
no body oozing
nectar splashed with "I love yous."
Making love with someone else, no, no, no
it’s like doing nothing, missing fire in the gaze
missing giving your soul in every kiss
and feeling like you can reach the sky.
I tried to forget you with him,
I wanted to get back at all your betrayals
and it went so wrong
that I can barely breathe the same air as him.
The curls of your black hair,
your sharp and slippery hips,
that beard that scraped like sandpaper
and your twisted smile are the best things in my life.
Making love with someone else, no, no, no,
it’s not the same thing, there are no pink stars
no body oozing
nectar splashed with "I love yous."
Making love with someone else, no, no, no,
it’s like doing nothing, missing fire in the gaze
missing giving your soul in every kiss
and feeling like you can reach the sky.