"I wasted my nights..."

I wasted my nights writing constantly,

till there was no lead in the pencil,

while the heat from the lamp on the nightstand

drove me senseless.

I imagined myself in a large auditorium,

in front of a single person.

Plaster fell from the walls of the corridors

when I started reading my verses.

I wanted to make her love me,

(as if she hadn’t loved me otherwise)

to make sure that she wasn’t bluffing

with her bottomless loving eyes.

I wanted to make her yield to me,

and force her to profess her love for me,

as if she refused to give it up willingly,

so I had to perform a robbery.

I wanted to overtake her with lightning

and thunder, giving her everything in me.

So I wasted my nights writing;

I didn’t know how to love her simply.