Could I love you in verse, embrace your body, caress every piece of your skin, sip your semicolons, savor your words, enjoy the moisture of your sighs, calm your speech and go crazy for exaggerating my words?
I can feel your reaction to every caress, walk through its curves, calm it with commas, accentuate every pore of your skin, caress its essence, fantasize about the paths of its history, manage its chapters, browse its pages and close the binding. your waist.
- I walk so literally that I could eat it in verse.
- Devour it in prose.
- Cook it in rhymes.
- And embellish it with the scribbles of my mind.
- So I would make it mine.
- And it would be yours throughout our reading.
I’d give you a coffee with Borges and a pure Cortzar. Lorca would give you in a vase of roses, a Sabinas pillow and Benedetti blankets; a window of García Marquez and the moon of Neruda.
I will give you the rain of Becquer and the wind of Doo, the passion of frida, the caresses of Mistral and the sighs of Storni, I would also give him a role of Lhosa and a light of Fuentes, a pen with his own ink and many kisses of my mouth. .
I would make fun of you through our music and our love, give you our love wrapped in time, remove the sand from the clock and count all the grains, make our love eternal. And all this, would I do it for you?
Whatever happens, this uncertainty surprises us with our fingers intertwined, describing the texture of our love, enjoying the singing of autumn leaves and smelling “butterflies in the stomach”.
That we are fleeting, that we get rid of all prejudices, that we let go of our fears, that we see ourselves in memories, that we speak with words, with semicolons and with uncomfortable silences.
I hope our romance catches the eye, and even if time is lacking, that I can recommend it. I hope you still love a lot of people, rubbing a lot of skins and make everyone feel like this is the best and best story you have. ever fallen into your hands.
I wish you great success; let your verbs undress me, eroticize my thoughts and immerse me in my weaknesses, fears and modesty.
? – So what do we do?
? Love.
? Are you sure?
? Yes.
? Excellent, I’m going to take my clothes off
? And why are you taking off your clothes?
? Make love.
Who told you you had to undress to have sex?
? As far as I know, that’s how it’s done.
? No, it’s not love. It’s possession.
? I don’t understand, and how do you do it?
? Stay dressed and we’ll talk until we’re tired, until we decipher, until we discover all our memories and all our deepest secrets, until I enjoy seeing it, until those eyes get tired and force me to sleep.
? And you’re going to force them to stay open?
? Yes, just to see you ?
-Unknown author-
Let me know about love, lock me up with your memory, turn on the heat and blush my cheeks, make me smile in the dark and loneliness, I remember you tenderly, I wish you in my arms on my sleepless nights, and next to my bedside table. .
Excite the world, let yourself live the true ecstasy, show them the sensations you are able to create with a touch of their leaves, their fur on their bare skin, with their words and their stories.
Let me know the love, trust the impossible, slide through the vines of the jungle of your stories, make me admire you, that I know no more passion than to understand me between your lines and give myself to your messages.
I read it every night and immerse me in his words; I devour your commas and calm down by stitches, stay calm in their unhook and drown in their exclamations.
Shaken, I scroll through its pages to get to the desired point. I slowly slip into your prayers, wood, sip to sip, your words and drive brazenly to the expected end point.
? Unknown author?
And then I give myself to Cortzar and dive into the depths of the warmth of his words. He kissed me for all eternity and I fell in love with his words. I paid homage to our night of love, our reading of dreams and our vital entertainment.
We are known and unknown, we live nervously because of the uncertainty of not knowing how to treat ourselves and we rush to caress ourselves as young lovers in your caress.
May incapacity guide us every night, that we jump out of the pages, that we do not want to finish, that we aspire to finish and enjoy, that we can smile and that we end up suffering.
We can enjoy it, because there’s nothing more beautiful than what you give me. I want my library to be full of books like you, and to be unique and exclusive. And could I therefore live it several times as our first time, the book of my life?