(el poema que no encajaba en el poemario, ni tuyo ni mío)

when my arms freeze
and glue to my torso
you've got an idea what this
is all about
in a place of intentional bad light
I can only fake my eyes' movement
and pretend
that I don't know about
the memories
and
the time that your saliva was once on my face
just by my lips
my fingers just by yours
the time I was frozen falsely

there are chances somewhere else, someone else.