and the mouths of our flesh
with cold aromas
complete with separations,
but mixed with pink regrets
and your howl
with my breath hovering above
made of tender delays,
our memories... you still catch,
occasioned by departures,
ethereal exhaled petals of sorrow,
in the sadness of absent returns
did I forget to warn you
with words of the forbidden language?...
your touch aiming at my gaze
my breath caressing your skin
we
like innocent flowers
standing in the way of the necessary pulse…
… and our terrace
do you still remember it?
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