Yep

Hard to say what I want from this, some feeling of longing, some mental space for us to intertwine our cuerpos. Some green field in the thousands of miles between us where I might fantasize that our heads could touch again. But I won't get it this round, I guess. Hard at work, you are, and I am just distracting myself long enough to get sick instead of cry. Fine, you've combed me from your thinning hair. How dare you try to steel my heart back to run off to Cuba? It's not fair, cachete, and you know it. Ya no te hablare mas.