The Shapeless Dance of Lovers
I often desired more
with the impatient burning within the chest
the shapeless dance of naive shadows
being stripped of love and wish
in the dusty single bed of a portrayed room.
The scent of womanly fragrance floats like the last desire
of the tempted skin and fragile body
I wish I could say it all.
When no one listens at the corridor of sliced moon and slant doors
the prism of the glasses awaits
and I slowly understand what the world tries to tell me.
I laugh, as lovers do.