Some tears are smiles

Your body of unquitness extends the hand of washes on the life of the night, a universe that transforms itself into a sudden vertigo of cream.

Your quiet but drawn out hand, soft but delayed, does not leave the moon to die in the cradle of the stars, in a light tablet of air.

Because there is a secret trip on your skin, that still does not belong to me.

A milk mixtures in the blood, and does not leave me to rest, this night. A seed originates color strange trees, that kills the laziness of the feelings.

The sweat of some words is born on the light threshold of the volcano, it remembers me why there is no heat beyond the thought.

But somewhere in the memory of the future, there is a countenance of stars that originates itself, there is somehow any tear of you, that is changedded into a smile.

It has a candy madness wine on the table. It has a little of life that you keep as a prismatic treasure.

Sex is not totally justified with the friction of the skin.