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

Vegan Victoria Secret Models

Rokeby Venus revisited

This Medusa dozen forks
that were forgotten in my room
tickle like a live fish in the palm of the hand,
to the marks of your feet on the wall facing the bed
mine
me and anyone
of all the shadows that lived,
the first candle that lit
lust and those petals sweeps
corner of the mouth of the vase,
that my mother gave me when they I loved you,
love that he saw me and then did not see you go away ...
I trample the streets again
what was your bloody belly god
while swans baptized with holy water
and almond oil varnish
you that when I touch you nominate your pores
not write sonnets me the keys to your house
while hanging from the door,
and savannas spilled on the floor and do not hang
of nowhere,
the same place where the moon hangs,
the full moon,
filled with pus someone,
anyone with an Italian surname,
as a mark of egg noodles,
second cousin as a gangster,
lovers descended from Caravaggio ...
And that someone who not imagine
unravel your hair in a few months,
and calm when you hear your voice whisper
the same words that I have heard.
As a disarming Rubick Cube
I lie to sink in dreams I do not dwell,
into crumbs left by the crows in your neck,
on carcasses of zebras that hides the forest your hair,
and in your pubic hair leaving frenare
traces left by cars in the rough.
I would take the bones of other poets,
cry behind bars filed down my veins
and then
when nobody comes to visit, I
shooting into the air clearing,
pointing to the sun with rubber bullets,
and I will fall on the floor and fell
your name in my voice forever.
and ring the bell of any house
to tell who comes out I'm not the same,
when I close my locks eyes forbid me see yours,
but will lie

"The Ends of the Earth" by Lucie & Simon