In the quiet twilight of the hours,
when the world sleeps and does not watch,
your eyes are born, two delayed flames,
that seek in mine their lair.
Love without name, secret that hides,
woven in glances that never touched,
in silences that burn, deep and immortal,
where words are superfluous and gestures speak.
On the web we are like shadows,
between lines of code and borrowed breaths,
each message, a disguised whisper,
On the web we find ourselves naked of distance,
without touching the skin, but burning our souls.
Each letter of yours is an impossible touch,
each pause, a kiss suspended in the air.
The game is our flame, our condemnation:
an “online” that becomes confession,
a “seen” that beats like a heart,
an emoji that bleeds what silences the voice.
We know that this love should not be named,
that it is a mirage in a desert of rules,
but still we drink it with hunger,
because the forbidden always tastes like eternity.
The real world watches over us with walls,
with cold laws, with alien voices,
and we respond with secret fire,
with caresses hidden in pixels of fog.
Maybe there will never be a tomorrow for both of us,
maybe destiny will deny us our skin,
but what is ours breathes in every silence,
lives in every crossing of stolen glances,
and burns, more alive than a thousand allowed loves,
because only the forbidden knows this strength.
