'50s

by
gently, touch me, —
(as if you're blind)

ride your lips, —
(on my skin)

arouse my longing, —
(with your kiss)

my lyrical whisper is, —
(your love's escape...)

(somewhere that looks
like '50s)

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as sweet as a sin...

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walk right in

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salut, — allez, bisous

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when the fire hits the sea

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the climate of my thoughts it's consumed into a kiss soft, long, wild, heavenly my mind invokes you with all arguments of lust thirsted as an empty pen your silhouette is contoured by my eyes, using their color attired in the outfit of love my breath is modulated with all whispers of your touches mysterious felt on my body you, sculptor of my thoughts, the climate you set in me
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