Written by a woman volcano!
Caressing the keyboard is a way to reach that masculine face I once had between my hands, tracing every centimeter of his neck and scratching his lips with the feminine impulse I once had. Maybe the duty of wanting shouldn't exist but one doesn't decide the stories that will be lived only they are lived. Sometimes I destroy each memory and fragment my tears into a drizzle so as not to wet my bed and think without being a way to forget.
Each small fragment of moisture I once had on me is now a beautiful thought unable even to feel alive again. Now that I am cold and dry with creases in my soul that only crave what I once had it's just a glance at the past.
I must feel happy because I was once the woman of fire with him alone with him. Every touch of that virile body ignited me, and every time he kissed my navel I exploded in passion. Every time moisture accumulated on the bed reached our neighbors. A snapping sound from his lips burst my desires. My back holds many secrets. If someone knew I was the woman who brought fire only with him because it was he who should be.
Fragile is reality now, already I am extinguished, there's nothing in me only creases that evidence stories not just of him but ultimately stories I can caress on this keyboard.
Caressing the keyboard is a way to reach that masculine face I once had between my hands, tracing every centimeter of his neck and scratching his lips with the feminine impulse I once had. Maybe the duty of wanting shouldn't exist but one doesn't decide the stories that will be lived only they are lived. Sometimes I destroy each memory and fragment my tears into a drizzle so as not to wet my bed and think without being a way to forget.
Each small fragment of moisture I once had on me is now a beautiful thought unable even to feel alive again. Now that I am cold and dry with creases in my soul that only crave what I once had it's just a glance at the past.
I must feel happy because I was once the woman of fire with him alone with him. Every touch of that virile body ignited me, and every time he kissed my navel I exploded in passion. Every time moisture accumulated on the bed reached our neighbors. A snapping sound from his lips burst my desires. My back holds many secrets. If someone knew I was the woman who brought fire only with him because it was he who should be.
Fragile is reality now, already I am extinguished, there's nothing in me only creases that evidence stories not just of him but ultimately stories I can caress on this keyboard.
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