Pattern For Dora Backpack

Forgetting

Nude your portrait looked at anything for more than two centuries
waited days to see you naked again to move a chess piece and check
the nice dressed, was your lady,
with the naked maja, who was my bishop, and so
let
blinking and that once you stop noticing how beautiful you are.
Your jewelry will look askance as more of flesh than of myth anclarte
and in the bed of a palette of gray, red and black
making sheets emphasize the dramatic curves of a body
meat rock silent tormented shore of an ocean of semen. Virgin
do not know if he cries,
across your clitoris does not say anything, nor
your navel that Oedipus is a scar inherited
not to forget that our parents are kings dethroned.
This bank only see your back and your hair,
look like a Stradivarius violin
quietly raging in the veins like a caged lion.
Tell Cupid not to play with her umbilical cord,
someone turned a stick into a snake
for blind crawl on their bellies in the dead
desecrating cemeteries and no silk worms,
quadriplegic butterflies rose garden where no kissing.
Everything is blurred in the reflection,
your face seems the land in a deserted bullring
looking panoptic eyes and divine the essence of the other
that we are indeed just what is left after you
see us from the top of a tree broken arrows,
stray bullets on the horizon,
of fewer holes in the belt of Orion ...
The regrets of your lover
with infrared
noticed you changed your position forever.
Head, shoulders and arms
a goddess revolved around a third axis
doubt that your neck wanted to leave a verse written
of mouth opening to bite the lips of the tiger
trained in the circus your shadow absorbed,
descendant of Narcissus, buried in yourself.
not forget that you are the muse of amputees,
which received seven butcher's ax on the back
Mary from knives.
Your name
successful reconstruction and her six-month jail meat.
Everything is blurry the beauty
your face is the issuance of a syringe
poet with its syllables building recreates the gods. We
mount wood fire in the unfinished verse,
torn petals of a flower in the desert
and marks on your face unspeakable
also reflected in our eyes

"Rokeby Venus" by Diego Velazquez