Paisaje Lunar

On your back ten ivory-colored fingertips
sink in without hurting.

There's a part of me that's going to die and then resurrect.

There's a flight of shadows towards the balcony
amidst the Moroccan smoke.

The ceiling is the top of the heart
when you're on top of me.

Hundreds of thousands of tongues of fire
are the ones that open the doors of the heart
wide open
wide open

Through the slightly open window leading to the balcony
the moon came to watch.

There's a mess of clothes on the floor in the room
like a lunar landscape.

The wind of frenzy gallops through the room
messing up both of us.

My mouth starts a sentence I didn't choose
but it remains voiceless.

A tongue of fire shines in the darkness
the doors of heaven swing wide open
wide open
wide open
wide open