Being with a man is also a poem if there is passion.
I will write on him and he will write on me.
with my fingers but there is no ink,
not on the paper but on his skin.
Words are not visible even though I wrote them.
Words could be changed into long red marks.
A little bit of my own poetry,
Once I hug him,
the poem will come automatically.
The moment I kiss him,
the verses suddenly appeared.
The moment I touch him,
the rhymes emerge perfectly.
In his melody of love opiate embrace
In his eyes reflects his souls from within.
A word of love uncovered the part of me.
A touch that said so much.
A simple way of my own poetry.
A world of romance, only me and my poetry.
© Mari Felices