John Mejía
Poeta asiduo al portal
I love to make you mine between my lines,
taking you unguarded,
bordering my pen between the light of your eyes,
and between the silk of your skin.
I love to live in you for a moment,
willing to take you without regrets,
make you an object of my ownership,
and at the mercy of heat between your legs.
I love to praise you within my hands ,
turning you from front to back,
like a sculptor with fresh new clay.
I love to live you intensely,
between the walls for my thought ,
between each image you give me,
between the sweet dream of having you…
I like to fake that I don’t like you,
and if I was asked, I would say,
-I don’t care,
when in reality, I live you
like the butterflies which flutter in my gut.
I love to improvise about yourself,
and pour you in my lips even more thirsty,
and finish with the gorgeous movement of your hips.
I love it—as simple as that…
taking you unguarded,
bordering my pen between the light of your eyes,
and between the silk of your skin.
I love to live in you for a moment,
willing to take you without regrets,
make you an object of my ownership,
and at the mercy of heat between your legs.
I love to praise you within my hands ,
turning you from front to back,
like a sculptor with fresh new clay.
I love to live you intensely,
between the walls for my thought ,
between each image you give me,
between the sweet dream of having you…
I like to fake that I don’t like you,
and if I was asked, I would say,
-I don’t care,
when in reality, I live you
like the butterflies which flutter in my gut.
I love to improvise about yourself,
and pour you in my lips even more thirsty,
and finish with the gorgeous movement of your hips.
I love it—as simple as that…
