A vision of the kitchen floor.
by A.
Let me run my fingers on your backAnd carve my nails into your skinLet me caress you, hold your breathThe trip is longNo rush, no rushLet me tiptoe on the kitchen floorWhere you lie naked and drainedE...
- February 16, 2012 9:58 am
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Sandstorm from within*
by A.
It is snowing sand todaySmall golden flickersSparkling up with every sunrayThat doesn’t reach the groundSand flickers absorb sunraysCreating a new substanceThat has an existence of its ownThey are a...
(tran)scent*
by A.
I sent you a morning kissAnd evening has comeWithout a trace of youOr few pale traces …Remaining in my mindFrom a time spent highOn the scent of dawnAnd that of your skinI inhaledAnd the scent was c...
On a present past.
by A.
There is a tiny noise in my headIt is coming from a long wayIt is dead.It is a collection of recollectionsBits and pieces of a pastAssembled in one spot in my mindBits and pieces of a present pastThat...
English (US)