Behind those eyes,
secrets are hidden,
Reflection of the sun
That belongs to spring,
where autumn
once offered its sadness.
Sometimes passion
peeks out and blossoms,
an inner fire
that reverberates in her being.
To run my fingers
with my fingers, longing,
touch every nook and cranny,
slowly, lovingly.
As a blind reader,
exploring her dermis,
each space palpating,
its reliefs touching.
Her body vibrates
at the touch of my caresses,
chest heaving, skin bristling,
delight in delights.
Translated with DeepL.com (free version)
