Her quivering lips

The mind spaghetti

Her quivering lips
and a still
summer afternoon;
His fingertips,
and her mind
full of doubts.

Her questioning eyes, searching,
for some secrets
in his half-lit world;
His intentions, now teetering,
like smoke
rising in the dark.

Her hair, a bit tangled,
in the memories of
their careless past;
Though his fingers, unraveling
them, for this moment
which he can’t surpass.

Yet her skin, warm, with
a fragrance of
the love they made;
As his lips exploring her
like a recurring dream, which
tastes of sweat and salt.

Her back shivers,
as he slips his hand
beneath her curves;
When the breath she was
holding, like a prayer,
she gave up at last.

Their bodies met, as
shadows meet under
the flickering lights;
When the time starts to flow with
sand grains, as they turned the

Her low voice
breaking, as she starts to
melt, like an evening sky;
When the sun goes down
the horizon, shyly…

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