Oh, what a music!

Kyriakos D. Papadopoulos

Before I touch the pen to write you, I had a conversation with my heart.

The fear shattered the memories, the flame extinguished. In the tired light there is no any stone for foothold. The dream escaped and became the fog of dawn, my teardrops have been sucked by the ground. My wondered hands finger a rosy nipple, you became at once the perfume of pain that intoxicated me, in my mind a painted pleasure became your body, as amulet in my memory that calls me, with an unhoped-for kiss to re-love you. Oh, what a music, my face resting deep in your soul. Oh, if I could have you woman, warmed by the sleep, with the dream that still blinks on your eyelash, with the desire that weaves some sweet memories. Oh, if you could know how wildly I desire to cry and to sleep on a body, abluted by the sea and by the sun. Oh, the lip; oh, the nipple! The navel and the twat!