Love is when the breeze brings the aroma of your body,
even at a distance.
Love is to smile without any explanation.
Love is
emptying the mind, of intrusive thoughts to let it gloat over all its corners,
without being able to enter anything more than its essence.
Love is to let it be and accept it, as it is.
Love is not tying or tying me.
Love is to continue living, without thinking that if
you do not see it you will die.
Love is to keep their eyes for as long as it is and to
feel how their souls are in that place strictly of the two, where there is no
haste or discord.
Love is to feel in your embrace, how you melt into you
body in a smooth and ethereal way, while your cells shake in a rush across your
skin.
Love is to feel your tongue soft and diabolical in
your mouth and not wanting to untie that magical knot that is made between his
saliva.
Love, what is love.
It is the sigh that runs after what can no longer be.
Carmen Pacheco
Lasculpasylamuertedelamorii@hotmail.com
@ Eroticism10
August 9, 2017
Painting by Oswaldo Hermida
"I hug you"
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