The night came down behind me insensitive. I had to turn around to see that the sun was ignited by a piece in front of us because we captured the dark night while we were flying over Lisbon.
fragile, and fragile in a box of blood and flesh. And desirous of passion, love, humor to lick in a daze growing. Pushing, touching, rubbing in an intimacy that was global in Lisbon that absolutely cool and breezy. The night was now master of all in quell'innamoramento in cigarette smoke, the brown glass of Sagres, with live sex, to touch, suck.
Dazed but not the music echoed the words shouted in his ears to understand each other when the body clinging was insufficient.
A kiss on the cheek to treason, to apologize for their weaknesses and passed a hand in the lower abdomen to feel vital and not corrupted by the love poison lurking. A sincere passion to be consumed in a crowd of people, the worries and sadness. In the absence of her man, the urge to fuck and scream their dissatisfaction at all. In Lisbon how fragile we are!
(to my B in Pico)
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