With names killing indifference

 Not a question. No windows for the gaze. They don't even leave. Nor do they come. They are the ones who are shouting their names. With the screams, bridging. With names killing indifference. What if indifference includes pain? Maybe less distance. Less fear. Fresh water for a hangover. And if you go And if you come. And if we look at the distance. The happy future is coming. In which I think of you, I want you, and I love you. I think of your naked caresses, my look is sweetened. Sleeping eyes wake up, dry afternoons, something of a grain of sand and a little garden. And your breasts appear to me as leaves, youthful leaves that contrast with those that appear close to the earth like branches of the juicy vineyards that cover the wine-growing valleys of the earth.