Your sights
Are a pelagic bird
That lodges
As balm in my chest,
Eyewash among my eyes,
Oxygen to my lung.
Is time to confronting it.
When you shoot
From your powerful catapult
That whole arsenal of kisses,
Mimes and caresses,
What I will do won't have
Nothing to do with
To beat the retreat.
I am fed up
With the siege
That you have undergone
During so many dawns.
I will not only demolish
By myself my walls
But rather I will smooth the way
Each mount, each hill
To facilitate you the entrance.
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