PROMISES OF LOVE
In wars sensuous, vital strife
What if both constellate our case,
The hours delicate you want,
There were just pure chances.
Fit such wishes, our mining,
Long sought, hands and mouths.
Whispers and murmurs, in word,
There was a hope in crimson burrows...
We live embedded of the madness
What both seduce us as faints?
In a fantastic explosion in tenderness,
Lying on your lap, why do we leave?
Beloved in our eyes, the promise,
Wonder of the night, which begins...
MARCOS LOURES
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