#capistu

Ela, uma faísca — Eu, um incêndio Protótipo infernal, Passional, ao maior extremo. Em uma chama constante, Fogo vibrante, Mas que pouco queima.

Eu, na espera — Ela, uma faísca Que aparece eventualmente, Viaja por tantos isqueiros. Deixa queimaduras, mas nunca fica. Se apaga deixando apenas o rastro Daquela memória De um suposto sentimento.

The hips sway to the sound of the wind Droplets race the curves of her small shoulders Travelling through her back Letting her dress cling at the thought of her body Like My eyes cling to her

Lips Barely open in a smirk Breathing out the smoke in her lungs It is a pleasant sulfur of unexpected events The street is empty, dark Yet I am able to distinguish each one of her firy

Locks She barely tied them at the top of her head Gently disguising her gipsy eyes Her neck screams in my absence She throws her arms to the sky As if she would let out her

Wings She hums my name and I try to move in my heels The road to her seems endless As she approaches my sight I can see through her white dress The radiance in her breasts The pink covered in white It moulds her body as a renaissance

Sculpture I crave to explore I fasten my pace Wrap my careless fingers around her waist Our hip bones aligned As she flies her arms around my

Shoulders She looks up to me Her undertow eyes quickly swallow mine The freckles mixed with her smeared mascara She is

Petite I can feel her long witch nails Softly traveling though my neck Her fingers tangled in the blonde mess She whispers in my ear Quickly biting my

Lobe I can feel the heat circulate with the blood Through my arms, to my fingers Down my legs and between them I can’t help but need her I touch her cheeks with my trembling

Fingers Closer to her presence Our noses touch Our eyes play the blame game “How did we get here?” I think about her

Touch The silky skin, slightly tanned when compared to mine I give in way too soon My lips are tainted by her bright red lipstick I am gone with the wine