Maybe I was a demon in my previous life,

now I’m just a mortal

who plays, breathes and laughs;

maybe I am the angel who stumbles and fall,

cause their lazy wings never learned to fly.

 

When I found your shadow on that rainy night,

your black curly hair, your smiling eyes,

your sweet, tempting lips and your strong arms,

they made me feel lost in a feverish sight.

 

I don’t know if then I still was divine,

but I think at that moment you made me be one

of the Olympic goddesses: stupid, selfish, proud;

so much that I wanted then you were mine

even knowing well that it was so bad.

 

And I love the enchantment of your sweet dark eyes:

I followed right away when you took my hand,

And you taught me how to fly for the first time:

my wings, suddenly healthy, were no longer afraid

even when I knew well I was going to fall.

 

And yes, I fell, it was inevitable that my body would crash,

but, still shattered, on my lips there was a smile

for the devil who made me live a mortal life,

in which only today exists and we must seize the now,

in which we enjoyed each other, sure that it could be the last time.

about Rita Cerezo

Tonalá Chiapas (sine data). Afortunadamente me topé con los mitos antes que con los cuentos de princesas, y con Poe antes que con Corín Tellado; eso me llevó a aprender Latín, Griego y tratar de ganar almas para los dioses olímpicos entre los desorientados adolescentes de la UNAM. Lo de escribir fue un vicio que empezó muy temprano, actualmente estoy en tratamiento en un grupo de apoyo, no para dejarlo -ya vi que es imposible-, sino para degustarlo mejor.

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