3694 I don't know until how many times

I don’t know until how many
I will telephone to your number
Without success
So that my stubborn
Drop that fond
That I have of you.

I can
If I were requested
To justify
Of a thousand ways,
To argue
In a thousand ways,
The attachment to your rhythm
Of infuriated waves
With those that you loosen
In my room.

We are metamorphic dance
And waves
And cliffs
And winds
And clouds
And whistles.

I yearn that we turn again
Pearly curved
Of conch,
Serpentine ivy that climbs
Until the stratosphere,
For that reason I mark your number
And with the urgent one
My conscience is annulled
Making me collapse
In the desperation.

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