oco T your mouth with a finger touch the edge of your mouth, I draw it as if it came out of my hand,
as if for the first time your mouth opened a little,
and I just close my eyes to undo it and,
Each time I create the mouth I want,
mouth which my hand chooses and sketches on the face,
a mouth
chosen from all,
with sovereign freedom of choice for me to draw with my hand on your face,
and by chance I do not seek to understand coincides exactly with your mouth that smiles beneath my hand that you draw.
look at me, at me closely,
increasingly close
and then we play Cyclops
ever looked at more closely and our eyes widen,
move towards each other, overlap
and the cyclops look,
breathing confusion,
mouths and struggle warmly,
biting with their lips,
barely holding their tongues on their teeth,
playing in corners where a heavy air comes and goes
with an old perfume
and silence.
Then my hands go hide in your hair,
depth slowly stroke your hair
while we kiss as if our mouths were full of flowers or fish,
lively movements fragrance dark.
And if we bite the pain is sweet,
and if we drown in a brief and terrible surge of breath,
that instant death is beautiful.
And there is one hard and one flavor of ripe fruit,
and I feel you tremble against my
like a moon on the water.
violent love violent love dazzled
glared us]
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