It's too big for my throat, your hand.
I raise more than the pelvis
if he kisses me on the lips
and I caress your brain
so do not forget this trip
where I do not take off
for not being able to let go of the sheets.
I must confess
That has me on my knees to his sex,
I am a she rebel
and mine by nature,
He makes me his in circumstances
I have some fear between the nails
and a little of his back in his mouth.
That I like it knows,
I hate him too,
I hard to see I forgot.
It has me subject
to an inexplicable desire for their language,
the one that curses and blesses my insides.
Idleness and pleasure.
Grudge and moans.
Taste and despair.
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