Waking up with him
at my side is not the same as being with you
it's not that he's bad, not to mention
but he needs to mature, he's almost a child.
White as yogurt
without that bull that you carry on your chest
fragility of a flower
nothing to do with my favorite pervert.
Without your nails scratching my back
without your hands that squeeze me everything changes,
without your tongue poisoning my throat,
without your teeth that torture and sweeten I feel nothing.
Making love with another , no, no, no,
it is not the same thing, there are no pink stars
they do not distill the pores of the body
ambrosia sprinkled with I love you.
I wanted to forget you with He,
I wanted to avenge all your infidelities
and it turned out so badly
that it is even difficult for me to breathe the same air.
The strands of your frizzy black hair,
your sharp and elusive hips,
that beard that was scratchy like sandpaper
and your twisted smile are the best thing in my life.
Making love with another, no, no, no,
it is not the same thing, there are no pink stars
they do not distill the pores of the body
ambrosia sprinkled with I love you.
Making love with another, no, no, no,
it's like doing nothing, there's no fire in your eyes
you're missing giving your soul in every kiss
and feeling like you can reach heaven.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS