She had raw love
the one you don’t find easily,
the one that is hard to play with,
the one that destroys you.
but you will still keep asking for more
because it’s a poison
that would end your hidden sufferings
because she can make you believe
with her eyes and love
that you are missing something within
you don’t fear death now
you fear those eyes,
that love,
this life,
without her.
The tongue is heartless servant, it slithers on your neck and lips, like a snake devoid of warm flesh, I feel the warmth and the tremble in cleavage, but I am cursed as in Eden.
It smothers the bra slowly, peeking within with satanic eyes, the warmth is a thirst for a thing made of out flesh, it multiples while inside, caressing, pressing, Disappearing with eyes,
Your breath is a kiss of blaze burning and I was a winter worth nurturing with hands choking my existence
The breasts caressed slowly, into a tumultuous moment of touch, I trace the tips to its origin, feeling them erect and ready for to pleased, unhook now and lie down, let me taste the eden before being banished forever.
To eclipse a past
Is to brace a free fall,
You have your toes ready
for the descent,
But your skin has a bolt of lightning
Teasing the tense tissues.
Who shall remember you?
A corpse about to turn to uneven bacon,
You had a heart of fire.
Now it is dilapidated smoked ruin.
Was it worth it?
Listen to me as one listens to the rain,
not attentive, not distracted,
light footsteps, thin drizzle,
water that is air, air that is time,
The day is still leaving
the night has yet to arrive,
figurations of mist
at the turn of the corner,
figurations of time
at the bend in this pause,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
without listening, hear what I say
with eyes open inward, asleep
with all five senses awake,
it’s raining, light footsteps, a murmur of syllables.
air and water, words with no weight:
what we are and are,
the days and years, this moment,
weightless time and heavy sorrow,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
wet asphalt is shining,
steam rises and walks away,
night unfolds and looks at me,
you are you and your body of steam,
you and your face of night,
you and your hair, unhurried lightning,
you cross the street and enter my forehead,
footsteps of water across my eyes,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
Love is like a Parisian night,
To which fanciful fools are drawn;
But tower lights, and stars alike,
All fade away at dawn.
The curves begin to melt,
Its astounding we remember
everything we touch.
So your memory is a trace of fingertips,
From the callous neck, to the sculpted collar bones, you are a like a hidden lake in a forgotten island, where I dip to forget myself,
The curves extrapolate like rays of sunlight never knowing why,
From the breasts to the fine arch of the back,
Everything dissolves again and again,
My hands aren’t wet with your touch?
Are you really what they call as magic?
For my hands disappear within you,
Tracing every tips without whispering to you,
Touching everywhere without telling you?
Making it a dream, with dreaming you,
Do you feel it all, or should I be dissolving you?
Not by touch, not by shyness
But by a pool of shyness and leaving you?
I never knew how to withdraw, so the dress is leaving you?
Maniacal? Sensuous? Are you mad?
All sound same. While your eyes teach you.
