This is the place.
This is the place where questions disappear
It’s the place where your lips meet mine
It’s the place we go when we’re tired
Or too full of life to speak.
It’s the place we go to cure confusion
or the itching want for words
we have not heard or cannot voice
The place where language looses its inconsistency
Its hidden shape-shifting mystery
When it falls silent to our lips.
This is the place.
A place to rest and burn and play.
But save the fate of Los amantes de Teruel
Every kiss has its end
We must eat and drink and breath
If we want to meet here again.
