his fishy blue eyes
makes me drop down
to my knees.

his hands,
are tough as nails
upon my gentle thighs.

Gene,
led me to the Eiffel tower,
his hands felt like
Heaven
In the palm of mine.

his tongue
tasted like champagne covered strawberries.

We were alone,
but,
not really.

Somebody was staring at us,
because we were bold, we hid.

“Break it up, that’s not love”
an old lady said
shaking her head.

Suddenly,
The evil taste of “love”,
danced in my mouth
it tasted as sweet as venom.

He held me loosely,
like a prize he just won.

I bit his ear
and tasted the saliva of his truths.

I felt my heart drop,
instead of fall.

I know we won’t be together for long.
the walls
will find a way to feel
My pain

I want to hate the way
we made
Love.
Por que?

The walls started to cry,
as I laid down,
alone.
and rubbed my soft hands
Up
and
down
my thighs.