I draw your groin with black lines,
the strokes break something inside me.
Certain illusions run unnoticed through my eyes,
I didn't remember them,
Could it be the magic of the pencil in my hand?
I sketch your body in my mind
and I feel something moving brushing against my skin.
Am I going crazy...?
Is it possible to get lost in a dream?
In the dance of shadows and lights
desire glides in soft shades.
In every curve, in every contour
hides a whisper, a deep secret.
Between lines and strokes passion is woven,
like a spell of art and sensation.
Thus, on the canvas of the night,
our dreams intertwine
in an embrace of waste.
