Catching feelings on the fly.
Like a free sample special.
Shooting stars falling from the sky.
Your eyes are celestial.
Chasing your thoughts, failing.
Deeply, dancing in your moans.
We talk about nothing.
While my words drown at the tip of my tongue.
My brain is wired, goes on and on and on.
Your lips get moist.
My fingertips know every inch of your body.
But I don’t know one inch of your soul.
We can’t ignite the flame, aside from the flesh.
Part ways, would be best.
But again, I find myself between your legs.
Tasting heaven and hell.
Make up sex gets old. Move on, we should.
But if you are cold tonight, come through.
Suspiro Poeta 