WHEN MY GUITAR CRYED...

I reach my companion eternal and grabbing her by the waist I start to draw chords that make me remember you in the most intimate of my being.

My imagination flies over the strings of my guitar and your laughter is part of my memories.

I do not understand the reasons for the events. I do not know if it was me in my eternal foolishness or you were in your extreme patience with me.

Today knowing that you are far I want you to know that there is no distance between us and much less forget you

In each stroke that I give to my sonorous friend, I remember the simple way in which to you surrendered to me. In my delirium I can see how you let your robe fall on the floor and with that catlike shape that you had to slide barefoot in every corner of our house was the biggest frenzy I had ever lived. You were a dream come true

I give another higher note and that's when I see you enter our bedroom and my crazy hand produces a fast and delirious arpeggio. In my madness I saw you lay your head on the pillow, while your fingers slid down your breasts, provoking me to madness.

Already my companion rumbles of longing when he sees me enter that bed to assault your virginity like a feverish madman, who with eyes clouded with joy begins to devour every part of that beloved body.

The notes become more serious because from a distance I see how I enter your innocent youth and enjoy your spring juices.

 Each chord that comes out of my guitar is a moan of pleasure that comes from your throat like a song of birds. I can’t stop playing the guitar; I do not want to stop hearing you because it is life itself that I am taking from your source.

Sorry but my eyes have become cloudy and I have to dry them.

I still whip the strings and I can hear a soft accompaniment of violins, when in a moment you open step, giving me the permission to penetrate this unexplored territory. I got to glory. I was the object of the greatest gift a man can receive. You trembled in my arms and your breathing was so agitated that I thought about giving you time or rest but you did not allow it. You felt the strength of a man inside you and that made you bold and bold.

A red thread was seen between your thighs while I left your regions, which were now mine.

 Already tired and with tears rolling down my cheeks, I gave the last chords to my guitar while I remembered that I had definitely been the one to blame for not being in my bed today.

 If by chance this song that I am now writing reaches your ears I am sure that you will not have any doubt of knowing the name of the author since in it you will see reflected my clumsiness of losing you.

 That was the last song with which the guitar accompanied me because when I finished, their strings exploded with pain. Now I will not be able to hold her by her waist to make her sigh with my songs.

Carmen Pacheco

lasculpasylamuertedelamorii@hotmail.com

@ Eroticism10