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Tenho teu rosto gravado em cada parte de meu corpo. Tenho teu rosto na memoria das noites e nos dias ventosos de comeco de inverno. Tenho teu rosto como seguranca de que o que vivi foi real e absoluto. Tenho teu rosto para me libertar dos escuros. Do vazio. Tenho teu rosto fincado em alguma parte que nao sei bem onde fica. Teu rosto, simulacro, teu rosto, uma poesia, teu rosto uma mancha rota no meu passado. Ainda es, rosto, palida essencia do que eu queria que fosses. Mas tu nao eras nem uma coisa, nem outra. Eu nunca soube muito bem o que queria teu rosto. Se fincar raizes em meu corpo, e desfazer em mim nos e poros, ou visitar-me e partir.

Imagem: Salvador Dali, Paranoiac Visage. 1935.

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