On My Period And Burns To Pee

you talk about my eager hands that would hold a hug. Write
stirrings of desire, slip through trails of smoke and write your name in the sky as if trying to imprint words on the windows steamed up.
startled my soul, overflowing with joy and I, bathed in its redundant power, I leave it to her sighs.
I lie in silence and dream while keeping colors in my hand, my body flies.
Your voice echoes, but light sustains me, with me and dance with my heart.
I find myself sitting in the dark to caress my face and I suddenly launch into a long race where sometimes I wonder sweet kisses, the other grabs my sudden surprise, almost of pain to leave bruises on my soul.
Sometimes my body evolves into a plastic marble sculpture, my desire grows, expands, and my dress disappears leaving bare semblance of torment. My body walks through bare eyes in search of refuge, a warm place where you can fall back not to feel cold.
I want your lips to lie down on my reading, that without uttering emphatic gestures, were allowed the sweetness of that moment.
I curled up in joy, I take care with rose petals and free them so that they can help me to show me the way I have to take.
my hands about you, draw imaginary landscapes in the ceiling of my room, and natural instinct come together in prayer.
My hands speak of a delicate balance where it is not easy to decide who, where deciding what to do becomes a fight with an urgent sense of dignity.
Seasons tired, harass where the silence is brothers and sisters that I love you, I do not recognize as such.
My hands are looking for a propitious sky from which to fly.
My hands, shake your palms without delay.
....