To an incidental Lover

Please, don´t say anything about the world outside of  our embrace, I need nothing but your soul bared in your eyes and on the clothes you refuse to simply leave on the floor, that you fold and leave on the chair before lying down on the bed.

I don´t care about who and what you are, for I know the whole of you within the confines of your stare, as we are locked in intimate connection, and words are unnecessary, cause we speak to each other´s loins, fluids to fluids, both of us simple animals, and happy ones at that.

Why should we make it more complicated than it needs to be?

There is so much freedom in a moment of pleasure! Your name is irrelevant, your flights of imagination, however are tantamount to the greatest tales of mankind, cause they make me smile, no matter how sad they are.

I am so aware of you breathing near me, your warmth, and slightly cold hands cupping my breast, the curves of your muscles as they paint the mosaic of your tall and lean body sprawled on the bed, legs entwined in mine, and smiling carefree at our imagine reflected on the tacky mirror on the ceiling.

We never loose sight of each other, I can always see your eyes, and I love you as a human man detached from space and time, adrift inside my bubble of soap.  You are such a beautiful thing! I can hear your heartbeat, and it tunes perfectly with your voice and the accent, full of guttural Rs and shooshing Ss. An accent that makes me feel at home.

But when you leave and the bubble bursts out in the sun, be sure that even if I pretend to have never seen you, I´ll know you and love you for whom you are, even if I don´t talk to you, my heart is telling yours the most tender words of endearment. For we exist in a world apart, and it is better that way.

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