Retrato femenino de la belleza Latina

Women...



DAwake alongside the incessant wailing of the alarm clock. What time is it? The usual hour, the moment always, the moment to leave for the streets, to flood me with its fragrances, to sketch a smile before each phrase typical of Latin American earth, to appreciate purely warm colors or inspiring gray shades that will elevate thinking in me. And of course, to marvel, to delight and immerse myself in the contemplation of feminine beauty, the picturesque, aggressive, and explosive painting of the Latin American woman.And what about us men? How deluded! We waste time yearning for women who inhabit the television world, who hide behind an artificial mask of cosmetics, incapable of transmitting the wisdom of their thought, of honoring this brave and fighting gender. Absurdly, we desire impure women, a monstrous creation of foreign hands that have created a demon with a woman's face using a scalpel. And we don't know how to yearn for the beauty with which God has magnified street women, those who with their walk make us gallop in our hearts, those who with a seductive glance from afar lead us to explore sinuous and intricate libidinous thoughts, longing to undress their bodies that with their departure consume our soul and seize eternal seconds of full contemplation, admiration, and uncontrollable desire.

Women of the street, feminine beauty is theirs, not that of those who fill the catwalks trying to promote a prototype of woman, since, a woman is beautiful when she develops in her unique essence, a woman is beautiful when she recognizes the attraction of the color of her skin, the melody of her sweet singing while speaking and that so dazzling walk, balancing their dangerous curves, agitating the perfume of woman with the balance of their hair woven from gold or nocturnal shades, will submit the observer to the most profound sexual agony.

Oh women of Latin America!, never forget that despite our mistakes, we men are the first to recognize your virtues, we acknowledge your intellect but hide it, because many times you know more than our gender, for there is no creature more sensitive that refers to comprehension, even though some try to hide it with gestures of disinterest or lack of importance. We men magnify ourselves day by day watching them balance their sculpted bodies by an artist who did not seek perfection, yearned for the synchronization of asymmetry, sought colors to dye their bodies, carved long legs, even longer since their being could not conceive the early rejoicing of victory. That artist, under the name of God, completed his most precious work, adorning it with eyes of a diversity in its range of colors, yet, rain on all, under the same perfume, the one they leave as they pass by our side, the one their hair emanates when they seduce us and when their skin is near our excited senses, for all carry the singular perfume of woman.


Written by TheEroticWriter.

Author's note: I hope the lines I wrote will be to your liking for all the ladies who shine with their writings, photographs, and other forms of expression both here and in the confines of the world where a Latin American woman is found. But I wouldn't want to be the only male interpreter to declare these words, there it hides, the thought of every man, there you will find humbly expressed ladies, the cry of your most faithful and passionate public, of those who are in love with your feminine being.