ese olor de otoño nunca se me olvida.
And we will be back in Autumn
What color do you feel with my hands?
Is it humid? Wet? Or juicy?
Do not say it.
Express it with your face,
with your blushed features.
Tell me about it with a slow moan,
with a sigh,
with a grin of pleasure.
Be the canvas, the oil, the brush, the artist.
Let my touch be your inspiration
and paint me with it.
Your private exhibition gallery, our bed.
Which fruit do you taste with my mouth?
Is it sweet? Is it smooth? Lush perhaps?
Do not say it.
Express it in a body-quake.
Shiver with delight and loving despair.
Scream it out with my name,
from your heated innards,
with a heavy exhale of lust
and a rain shower of burning stars.
If it comes in clusters, eat me one by one.
If not, make me a drink from your fire
and cheers! My girl.
What songs do you recreate when we make love?
Are they ballads? Or blues? Or dance?
Maybe Instrumental? Pop? Jazz?
What about metal? Or classic? Reggae? Folk?
Possibly soundtracks? Or Latin? Hip hop? Rock?
Do not tell me now.
Express them with your nudity,
with your guilty moves,
with those eyes that wish from me an eternity of beds.
Sing them with your sweating fantasies aloft
and let me devour the lyrics for every inch of strophe,
bridge and chorus written in your skin.
Dance your tongue with mine,
Dance your legs to get me totally entwined,
Dance your breasts with inviting smiles
for the high pleasure of hot kisses of different genres and styles.
and blush, blush again, my girl.
Blush and burn and eat and drink and paint me all those songs you like
until you fix your eyes on me as almost begging for your end,
until your fingers grab my back as the last breath of life,
until tender and naughty merge in a fusion of our joined final silence…
And we will be back in Autumn.
And we will be pigments in a landscape.
And we will be juice in elegant cups.
And we will be your favorite music.
………………………………….Koori
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