My life is about as interesting as the next person's. |
Current Mood: lovey-dovey Current Music: You gotta be - Des'ree I touch your mouth with a finger. I touch the corner of your mouth, I am drawing it as if it came out of my hand, as if for the first time, your mouth opened, and it is enough for me to close my eyes in order to undo it all and start over, to make me born each time the mouth that I desire, the mouth that my hand chooses and that draws on your face, a mouth chosen amongst all, with sovereign freedom and that by chance that I don't find to understand coincides exactly with your mouth, choosen for me in order to draw it with my hand on your face, and that mouth that smiles underneath the one that my hand draws for you. You look at me, you look at me up close, each time closer and then we play cyclops, we look at ourselves each time closely and the eyes enlarge themselves, grow closer amongst themselves, superimpose and the cyclops look at each other, confused breathing, the mouths encounter and fight warml, biting themselves with their lips, the tongue barely leaning in the teeth, playing in their areas where a heavy air goes and comes with an old perfume and a silence. Then, my hands search to sink themselves in your hair, to caress slowly the depths of your hair while we kiss as if we had our mouth full of flowers or of fish, of alive moments, of dark scents. And if we bite ourselves the pain is sweet, and if we drown ourselves in a brief and terrible simultaneous absorbing of breath, that instantaneous death is beautiful. And there is only one saliva and one taste of ripening fruit, and I feel you tremble against me like a moon on the water. (part of the book Hopscotch by Julio Cortazar, Gregory Rabassa) -------------------------------------------- but i threw you the obvious, just to see if there's more behind you. eyes of a fallen angel, eyes of a tragedy but i see, see through it all. see through, see you |