Anxiety
An arm around the hips is jumping to the nipple,
The fingers softly pressing in circular movements,
With only a fringe of conscience, the hand now stopped at the vertice,
As the hips turned round and round, as there was a meaning in assiduousness.
People laugh drunkenly to the characters no one knew
Two strangers dressed in elaborate, shining cosmopolitan outfits
But with the long night gaining speed they were noted only by few.
The hot tenderness kept rising until suddenly both fall into pits.
- Autor: Mera Gente (Seudónimo) ( Offline)
- Publicado: 26 de abril de 2014 a las 12:59
- Comentario del autor sobre el poema: Es la metad.
- Categoría: Sin clasificar
- Lecturas: 59
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