Colors
smell beautiful.
Our lips on
fire.
All weird fantasies
getting higher.
My evil gestures,
now tunes your
skin
and tempts
a music,
-the luring chords
of sin.
Into the echoes
of love,
I touch
the seldom touched vibes,
groans, howls and
the tears
that
burns our flame
of joy,
desire,
fantasy,
ecstasy,
perhaps
our necessity!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
True that !