Poetry Corner – The Italian Girl

The Italian Girl

... Deep, hazel eyes, like staring into them too long would be dangerous, the threat of never escaping... Sumptuous curves, elegantly, delicately put together, sculpted from Eve herself... Without knowing her past, she maintains a childlike innocence, no way of knowing, but it doesn't matter... 

I want to be lying alongside her now, stroking her platinum blonde hair, brunette roots showing, adding a feeling of realness to her, proving I didn't just conjure her up in a sun-stroked daydream... Caressing her magnificent tits, boobs, breasts, these words too crass to do any written description justice, like just by saying them would offend her unequaled beauty... 

Lying there apres-sex, our sweating bodies heaving, melting together... Our fingers exploring each other's bodies, still unknown even after making love, even more foreign than when we only fantasized this... Our feet intertwining like latin dancers, latin lovers under a howling full moon...

Soft, luscious lips, softer than air, they would disintegrate on contact, upper and lower lips pursing together like two pillows, pillows you want to rest your lips on, and never part from, both her and your saliva acting as coital glue, breathing through your noses, listening to the charged sounds of your breathing, feeling each other's heartbeats, and you could stay like this forever...

-Bali, Jan 12/2017

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