What do you know your skin when you've drunk my nostalgia? What fibers do my doodles awaken dormant volcanoes?
There are my hands in the folds of your memory intact, to see the curvature of your perfect nudity.
There goes my lips, ready, wet, riding your peaks and your potholes and sweat taste of bubbles the wine that I will translate the tide of your palpitations.
paper I hand calligraphy pen ink, sweat excited laughter saudade, collage of secret codes to be deciphered in orgasms within minutes apart and different.
open skin brooding intimacy that you left.
Invented passion haunts you with the fury of the storm eternal always spins the universe.
to know what your skin when you read me? Because I know came away!
says my heart ... heart ...
fasting
Caracas, February 2004.
Charter Finalist "Love Letters MontBlanc"
Source: Sagiscorpio
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