ShiaraRussi

I discover my paupières and my joues, aux baisers Le coin vous attend: entrouvert Le cou relevé pour être approché; à travers tes lèvres Slowly, it passes over my shoulders, découvert Et maintenant that I open my eyes, regarde-moi et nous parlerons

 

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Your naked body on that chest with so many thorns, that touch your clean, morbid skin, tear your firm breasts and leave the mark of tears, your scrupulous red lips, your eyes full of madness and perdition, your soft belly that declares your independence as a woman, as a flower, as life, as a bird. Woman written and described on a bed apart, he the fuchsia moon, on a purple rock. Woman of perfect form, tired of the dew that springs from your forehead and your chest. Woman with a sweet and bloody spirit like the innocence of thoughts carved from your feet, those that stopped their step on this ground that will never be condensed again.

When I get the urge, I think of you, and I imagine what I'd be doing to you right now... You have no idea what I imagine about you and then the desire grows deeper and deeper inside me... My saliva will dress your naked skin; my hands will draw like a Da Vinci your body outlining step by step with my fingertips and later with my wet tongue; my hips will dance at their private feast with yours and a single moan will spring from your throat and mine.. And the desire continues to grow, now your skin like a coat will cover mine and again your tongue will be the chisel of my warm body and we will reach the garden of desire again.. And this time our groan will shake the earth and awaken the most primitive instinct of the neighbors.. So is my desire for you; you have not the remotest idea of all that goes through my mind when the desire for you, grows within me.

🌹🌹🌹🌹

Come and sail through my naked body, with your flaming hands of passion discover my sensitivity and drown in my rivers of anxiety.

It runs through every part of my body, how longing for you I am..

 

Hold me slowly, make me rise again around my waist, kiss me madly, make me delirious, wrap yourself in my curly hair and never let me escape.

 

Look into my eyes as your hands continue to run my body finds my darkness and navigates it without suspicion.

 

Let me feel your firmness that causes you to sigh and sigh without restraint or expectation.

 

Love me tonight, love, I need you today to feel inside me and enjoy us as each night becomes this. Our long-awaited encounter.

I covet your body, your soft skin slipping into mine. Tu piel: Map memorized in salt Greed that tongue palpit on my ledge pumping leg inside: ritual-awakening of our instincts, shared saliva, unison effluvia Greed your simple nakedness, the decay of breaths, our lost looks that are sought, your neck open to me, the fragility of that momentary ascension that moves us to the body of the other where we die, Again, in life, where we live for a moment, in death

Woman's body, white hills, white thighs, you look like the world in your surrender attitude.

My wild peasant body undermines you and makes the child jump from the bottom of the earth. I was alone like a tunnel. From me the birds fled and into me the night entered its powerful invasion.

To survive I forged you as a weapon, as an arrow in my bow, as a stone in my sling. But the time for revenge has come, and I love you.

Body of skin, moss, milk, greedy and firm. Oh, the breast glasses! Ah the eyes of absence! Oh, the pubes! Ah, your slow, sad voice! Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.

My thirst, my boundless yearning, my indecisive path! Dark channels where eternal thirst follows, and fatigue follows, and infinite pain.

On the scorching, slippery nakedness, the sling of sensuality vibrates, clothed in air, free, as if with light wings. Stiff nipples, like bullets about to fire; creative will of a complicity that gives you more the more you give. A receptive and receptive attitude, which in every cavity sucks and devours, and the inflexible in softness expresses. Parentheses of open thighs, closing firmly my grafts, how your voice between smiles moans 🤭

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If you can guess what I'm thinking, I'll put it on your lips. 💋

The only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Like everything else about the heart, you'll know when you've found it.

Success means doing the best we can with what we have. Success is in doing, not in getting; in trying, not in succeeding. Success is a personal standard, reaching the highest that is in us, becoming all that we can be.

And look, I was looking for a star and I found a galaxy.

The least of my vacation

On a good vacation you have nothing to do and you have all day to do it. 😉😎

People who read on vacation always have a better time because it's a total escape, physically and mentally. ✨🌊

Don't let the day end without you growing a little, being happy, increasing your dreams..

Do Not Be Overcome by Discouragement.

Don't let anyone take away your right to express yourself, which is almost a duty..

Don't give up the urge to make your life something extraordinary. Don't stop believing that words and poetry can change the world..

Whatever happens, our essence is intact. We are beings full of passion.

Life is desert and oasis.

It knocks us down, it hurts us, it teaches us, it makes us protagonists of our own story..

Though the wind blows against it, the mighty work continues:.

Never stop dreaming, because in dreams man is free.

No caigas en el peor de los errores: The silence.

Most of them live in awful silence. Don't give up.

He's running away..

“I emit my screams from the rooftops of this world, says the poet.

Appreciate the Beauty of Simple Things.

You can make beautiful poetry about little things, but you can't row against yourself..

That makes life a living hell..

Enjoy the panic of having your whole life ahead of you..

Live it intensely, without mediocrity.

Think of the future as in you and face the task with pride and fearlessness. Learn from those who can teach you.

The experiences of those who came before us of our dead poets, help you walk through life The society of today is us: The living poets”.

Don't let life pass you by without you living it.

I'm almost at the most wonderful time of the year, time to share ❤ Come and wish me a merry Christmas

Being happy is not only about valuing the smile, but also reflecting on the sadness.

It's not just about celebrating success, it's about learning from failure. It's not just having joy in applause, but having joy in anonymity..

Being happy is recognizing that life is worth living, despite all the challenges, misunderstandings and periods of crisis.

Being happy is not a fate, but a conquest for those who know how to travel into their own being..

Being happy is about letting go of being a victim of your problems and becoming an actor in your own story..

You want me to dawn, you want me to foam, you want me to nacre.

Let it be pickled above all, chaste. Of a fat content, by weight, exceeding 13%.

Corolla closed. Not a moonbeam has filtered through me. Not a margarita is my sister.

You want me snow, you want me white, you want me dawn.

You who ate all the cups by hand, of fruit and honey the purple lips.

You who at the feast covered with pomegranates left the meat feasting on Bacchus.

You who in the black gardens of deception dressed in red ran to the ravage.

You, who keep the skeleton intact I don't know yet by what miracles, pretend to be white (God forgive you), pretend to be chaste (God forgive you), pretend to me alba! Flee into the woods, go into the mountains; clean your mouth; lives in the cabins; touch the wet earth with your hands; nourishes the body with bitter root; drink from the rocks; sleeps on frost; Renews fabrics with saltpeter and water: Talk to the birds and take yourself at dawn.

And when the flesh is returned to thee, and thou hast put into them the soul that was entangled by the alcoves, then, good man, pretend me white, pretend me level, pretend me chaste..

In the hidden corners of passion, the fire of eroticism without reason is kindled. Enmeshed in an intimate and passionate embrace, the bodies surrender without shame or sin.

The soft touch of your hands running through my skin, awakens every fiber, every fast and faithful desire. The whisper of your lips whispering in my ear, ignites the flame, ignites the hidden desire.

The complicit glances, full of lust and lust, are in a game of seduction and fragrance. The touch of our mouths, a sublime dance, where tongues dance and instincts blur.

Eroticism unfolds like a fan of pleasure, exploring every inch of skin with greed and power. Caresses become art, tracing forbidden paths, entangled in a swirl of gasps and moans.

The sheets become silent witnesses to the unbridled, unbridled movement. Sweat pours like dew of passion, as our bodies dance in perfect communion..

Desire rises in an unparalleled symphony, where hearts beat in unbreakable rhythm. The smell of ecstasy permeates the atmosphere, as we surrender without limits, without restraint.

And in the midst of that unbridled, frantic ecstasy, we discover the purity of the erotic, the authentic. Eroticism is discovering ourselves skin deep, in every caress, in every groan, in every encounter..

It is the meeting of souls thirsting for ardor, in an erotic dance full of splendor. It's the deep connection, the lustful embrace, that lifts us into a lustful parallel cosmos..

In the game of desire, time fades, and there is only pleasure in each growing heartbeat. Eroticism dresses with the sensuality of the night, unleashing passions that burn like waste.

So, in this forbidden, clandestine embrace, we plunge into a world full of madness. Eroticism envelops us and makes us vibrate, in every breath, in every look, in every love..

Kiss me sweetness for your mouth I want to be sweet cotton candy.

Well, don't hesitate to take me in your lips, sink your teeth, melt me in your tongue and mix me in your saliva because I want to sweeten every taste bud.

Taste me sweetly and with greed you eat me, consume me, devour me, as if I were the forbidden fruit, the apple of sin..

And finally, sweet baby, slowly sip like fresh summer water and let me flow through your breasts until you're all wet.

Get drunk on me without fear of anything, I want to be the aguamel of your poetry, for your bitter mouth tasty ambrosia.

I greed your body, your soft skin slipping on mine. Your skin: map memorized in salt Greed that tongue palpit on my ledge pumping leg inside: ritual-awakening of our instincts, shared saliva, unison effluvia Greedy your simple nakedness, the decay of breaths, our lost looks that are sought, your neck open to me, the fragility of that momentary ascension that moves us to the body of the other where we die, Again, in life, where we live for a moment, in death}

The dream like a bird grew from light to light erasing the look; quiet and carried by angels, the snow between the wings descended. The sky was leafing with joy, the child was staring into the light, absorbed, with the timid blood of the heart unleashed, the Virgin was smiling. When the shepherds saw their fortune, it was already a canopy the countless flight over the tortoise of the sleepy bull; and they lost their eyes beauty, feeling, between the true and the ineffable, the light of the heart motionless.

Feeling worthy of being loved. Love. Have a star. Raise your glass facing outwards. Rejoice your heart by looking inward. Believe in men every day. Look at what's coming with an eye of hope and a steady hand. Don't lie to the pillow; that is, not to lie to yourself. Don't cry for a sun that doesn't appear. Laugh for a star. Fight inside and out. To get the soul drunk with others. Have a Christmas tree from the nape of your neck to your feet.

Christmas inspires me. It's this magic spirit I find on every corner that brings me to you in my thoughts. I see your gift this year more than ever a promise of sincere love this Christmas more than ever the simple comes deeper the simple you don't expect my gift, my love: a poem.

Take off my eyelids and cheeks, kiss the corner is waiting for you: open the neck is raised to be approached; by your lips slowly runs my shoulders, uncovered and now that I open my eyes, look at me and we talk

On the edge of your bed, on the edge of your instinct, on the edge of the unimaginable. You look at the moon behind the glass, your mind fires a shot into the void. A thunder on my skin and I'm there. On the edge of desire.

I covered the fruit of my appetite with the bed linen; hid the morbidity in your smile, drawing pink mist your eyes. reflected in my eyes I behold you; a thunder on my skin and my hands breathing on your bed.

My lips fall into the abyss reach their first golden destination they walk on your broad forehead they slip on your charming face they conquer your restless cheeks a thunder on my skin and the owner of your lips I am.

At night, at mid-moon, one indiscreet sigh dies after another. My kisses closed your eyes and sang the agony of your naked body. My eyes delight my imagination; a thunder in my skin and my body whispering you wildly.

The particulate heat that invades my divine lips the heat of your burning breasts pause my senses the blazing fury of my avid hands; I rise and fall by those feminine figures. A more thunder on my skin and a falling kiss pointing down the road.

I march with transcendent resolve I see a valley of fire lit my hands clearing the way to fury my kisses quenching the heat between your legs my tongue strolling in your sex. A thunder on your delicate skin and a whisper devoured by the ecstatic night.

A twig of sighs and delirium Your hands climb up my legs Now sail hurriedly to the harbor and to the lighthouse Draw compulsively the taste of their anchors A noise that clutches your bed and your hands running through my waking sex.

Carousel of caresses my soul tremble gift your hands carnal fantasies hot moans whisper my all warm and warm moisture of your lips and your tongue slipping along my burning edges A thunder illuminates the room and my full manhood in your mouth.

Raised the desire to die in one being the naked bodies melt their feeling our cubicle gives off aroma to desire that anxious villet allows me the seat you accompany my position and you crouch in front of me. One more thunder, your eyes are giving away when you look at mine, and in hip movements, the sky is coming down for me..

The focus of your body on my mind will still be etched as your will on my heart; I see your hair, your neck, your back. A doggy posture that turns me on even more. My movements are night howls now. A louder roar, more inspiration and a thousand drops of sweat respond to pleasure.

Thy gaze, candid eagle, pursues mine and pushes my nature upon that complaining bed; thy mischievous smile upon my lost sight thy breasts fall upon my open mouth and sitting upon my waist you play to the mark. A thunder will pass over us when you hit us. We thought a thunder. A thunder was not enough..

It seems that time has suddenly passed how long it must have taken my mouth to reach yours; chest to chest I continue to penetrate your life your tight, hurried, whining breathing copies the haste of our movements. the final roar. Our bodies are just pleasure and half my life traveling to your body.

The disfigured bed allows us to rest your face glued to my chest accompanies a sigh no force created can separate us now I love you Shy and complacent phrase we give have passed five breaths. a gesture of total union. My leg, still shy, passes between yours and we come to the edges of your bed. Another one. And then again.

As long as you exist, as long as my gaze searches for you beyond the hills, as long as nothing fills my heart but your image, and there is a remote possibility that you are alive somewhere, illuminated by any light.

As long as I sense that you are and you call yourself that, with that name of yours so small, I will continue as now, my beloved, transitioning away, under that love that grows and does not die, under that love that continues and never ends.

On the scorching nakedness slippery vibrates the sling of sensuality; clothed in air, in freedom, such as endowed with light wings.

Stiff nipples, like bullets about to fire; creative will of a complicity that more gives you the more you give.

A receptive and receptive attitude, which in every cavity sucks and devours, and the inflexible in softness expresses.

Parentheses of open thighs, closing firmly my grafts, how your voice between smiles moans.

With that sensuality that never seems to end

With that essence that envelops me ceaselessly

♪ That gets me wet, that loses me, that makes me vibrate ♪

At a distance even without you being there

They awaken the moisture of my intimacy

And to my desires that are anxious sit, touch, kiss and let me go to your moisture

Let me make love to you subtly

Let me give myself completely

Let me live in an instant forever

I want to feel you and you to feel me

Lose myself in you, in your things, in your kisses

In your thoughts, in your dreams, in your desires

Make them mine, make them ours

Feel how I unreservedly abandon you

And I let myself be swept away by the waves of pleasure

From the sea of your body and so I enter

To the bottom of your intimacy and your being

I feel like I'm shipwrecked on the island of pleasure.

After having weathered waves of anxiety Waves of pleasure that beat hard

♪ We're always sweating our bodies ♪

While our wet kisses

They refreshed us from the prisoners' longings

I lose myself in you and I find myself again

Looking up at the sky I can glimpse

That the night is no longer dark

It's become lentils already.

And I could once again and again

I could love you without you even being there.

I covet your body, your soft skin slipping into mine. Your skin: map memorized in salt greed that lingual palpitation in my salient pumping leg inside: ritual-awakening of our instincts, shared saliva, unison effluviums

Greed your simple nakedness, the decay of breaths, our lost gazes that are searching, your neck open to me, the fragility of that momentary ascension that moves us to the body of the other where we die, again, in life, where we live an instant, in death

You are the portion of you in me, in the gap that can't cover our bodies, if tangled cohabit in a mass of embraces the infinite wrinkle formed in the sheet of our skin, the spread curtain that floats wavering among the moans of wounded animal

The light of the alarm clock that blinks winking at the enamored death, a drop of bare sweat that stamps on the ground, lands at my feet and evaporates The same wood forged in alabaster candied with the smell of cinnamon and herbaceous, the rusty latch of old roses, the dust that frayed into thousands of floating little lights, motionless in the gravity of a faint reflection

The picture hanging on the headboard; sinuous and reptilian hanging of tulips embraced

The corner in the crevice

The glass window lets out fluctuating waves of light: white opals that crash into the wall

The narrow mattress that squeals its unstable existence, the electric candle that casts Chinese and Spartacus shadows You are the very cabin where, condensed with your particles, the alchemy of our bodies proceeds

You know the calm self, the harmless flirtatious, daytime, musical self. Who knows when the malicious, viperine, vengeful one will emerge. But I know you both are into sex. And they smell like fingers.

Writing a poem is like an orgasm: it stains the ink as much as the semen, sometimes even more. There are evenings, however, when I touch the words, bite their breasts and their agile legs, lift their skirts with my fingers, look down at them, do the usual to them and yet see: nothing happens! Cesar Vallejo said it best: "I say it and I don't run away".”.

I think about your sex. Simplifying my heart, I think of your sex, before the ripe hijar of the day. I feel the bliss button, it's in season. And an old feeling degenerates into brains dies. I think of your sex, a furrow more prolific and harmonious than the womb of the shadow, though death conceives and gives birth to God himself.

Oh Conscience, I think, yes, of the free brute who enjoys where he wills, where he can. Oh honey scandal of the twilight.

Oh, the silent roar.

Take off my eyelids and cheeks, kiss the corner is waiting for you: half open

Neck up to be tackled; by your lips

Slowly he runs over my shoulders, bare and now that I open my eyes, look at me and we talk.

As a bird as it is, my finger has a nest in the little patch of grass of your hidden mole. Run with your arms, with your lips, and whistle from breast to breast, with the joy of her whistle. Water's in the dimple of your sunken little button.