Saturday, August 29, 2009


he knew how to sustain my gaze

(like a dissertation)

and every time he talked to me
my hands would caress each other
in hiding

(one of them pretending it was his)

I was quivering around each map,
year or name of a leader


(pardon me),

you Sir
I loved more than chocolate


angela said...

you Sir
I loved more than glass of wine in the summer

dancing is
still mine

you Sir
follow me

i will teach you
flying is a personal business

Corina said...

pardon me, Sir
but I use to
fancy you
and this is my poem
about it..