Κυριακή, 15 Ιουνίου 2014

Calling touch...

Calling touch and then we are moving...
And the moving went along in the rhythm of the music. Yes. It's dancing how they call it. But it felt more like he took me to this trip, that only birds that fly can go. His wings took my heart, his arms took my mind, a dance like a theatrical play without actors, but just our elegant selves naked of regrets.
And then, there was a date. A date you could never translate it the right way. There was no date, it was just us. Lots of magic dust flowing around us. There was this chocolate taste, like drug, inspired our souls. The air smell like candy. We heard a song.
Cultures, languages, lips, breaths. It all mixed up under a moonlight of tenderness.
You know how it feels? It's almost like safe love. Like it could ever exist such a thing.
Dreams. Trust. Fairytales. It was a messy whisper inside my head, between lust and desire, connection and emotions. Grabbing. Biting. Scratching. Flawless eye contact that drives you crazy in a deeper sinful madness of the leader, just because you go on following the same insane steps. Wrong or right, would it matter? No conclusion, just a vision of a deja vu.