Date: Thu, 25 Oct 2001 17:23:41 +0100
From: Rita S. <mau_feitio_@hotmail.com>
Subject: You

				  ~ You ~

	It's Fall.
	I say I love the way the sun shines in the end of all afternoons. You
smile. What have we been thinking of? I guess I love the way the sun shines
upon you. Maybe I just love you... Maybe it's cloudy today and I have not
noticed. But who cares? Here we are, nervous and aching to feel each other,
but we can't... What time is it? Not time yet... not time... The clock ticks
ever so slowly, it tingles inside me as if your eyes were trying to reach me
in my warm inside.
	We walk side by side on that long avenue, trying to kill time, filling that
asphyxiating waiting with smooth innocent words. Are you thinking what I am
thinking? Are you feeling the same tingling inside? Can you feel it, when
our hands touch slightly and then hide from each other?
	Is it time, you ask. Almost. That's my whispered answer.
	I can tell you are having the same shameless thoughts...
The city lights approach us in our desire, as the moon rises up and the sun
gives away. I could swear time is still, but time never stops.
	I look at you, walking by my side. You have that way about you... There are
no words about you. You cannot be described, as if something stopped the way
between you and any word that dares to tell anything about you. It can't be
told, you don't know how many words live inside my mind without daring to
say that way about you that makes me sigh... The way I love. The way I want
you, so bad, in this dampness of myself, on my own body, as this minutes and
seconds pass by without a single touch from you unless the touch of your
eyes.
	I'm in love with that way you have that is superior to any word.
	I want to make love to you, but it is not time yet.
	We enter a coffee shop, you ask for a bottle water. Ice cold. I ask for
tea. It's a warm place, it feels as if Fall lives there, deep inside the
walls. There must be a place like this inside you. I wonder how warm is Fall
inside yourself. Is it raining? Probably, cause we don't talk anymore, cause
silence denounces our aching desire. After all, I don't know anything about
words... Not anymore.
	It's time! You pay. We leave.
	We drive till my place. No one is there, just the night, entering through
the windows, through the linen curtains. There is a note near the phone: "I
wanted to kiss you goodbye but you never came home so I had to go. Won't be
back till Friday night. There is food on the fridge. Call mom if you need
something, sleep at Joana's tomorrow! Mom called, she asked you to sleep at
her house, it's your choice... Behave! Kisses from dad."
	But then again, who cares? So many things to think about, as the world
twists and turns around us, but never inside. Never. Only you exist. Only
you, on my inside.
	Let me look at you, you say. Your words. Your voice. I shiver.
	I drop my books and my key, as you touch me. Who cares? When those books
are spread around my house, my smell on your fingers, your taste on my
mouth... Who cares then, if I am myself or just some other girl? Does mom
really cares? No one really knows... No one dares to know.
You hold my arms above my head, you hold them tight, and kiss me... That
endless hungry kiss. I was wrong, time stops when we tell it to stop.
	Touch me...
	Are you touching me...?
	Can you feel me...?
	Slowly, I take off your clothes... Naked before me, you take off my jeans.
Then my shirt. Then my bra... You put your hand between my legs and feel the
wetness, soaking my panties. You smile and take them off.
	We hold each other, our breasts touch... I can feel you, your smooth silky
skin... Silence embraces our symmetric bodies. There is not much difference,
you know? Not between me and you. Just the way my long hair licks your back,
or the way you hold my childish smile with those strong arms. Just that, and
nothing more. We are one.
	I faint, when you kiss my orange shadow. I am dancing for you the music of
your own desire, of your own wanting. My hand is between your legs, I am
caressing you from deep inside as you moan for me. I ask you to give me your
moaning, and you give them to me, so that I can keep them inside a golden
box.
How much beauty does it takes? How much love does it takes? Do you only
taste like this for me? I believe so... I know so. I know that, cause no one
else can taste you but me.
	I love that perfume. I could sleep in it. I could fall asleep inside you,
and then pretend that I lived in you. I tell you that. You correct me, you
say I live in you already. And then I cry...
	I don't know much. I know I love you, woman. I know your hand is dancing on
my skin. I know I want you inside me... Your tongue on my breast makes me
sigh, and then moan... I know I need you. I know so little, you know so
much... You know me, you know when you should enter me, when you should kiss
me. You know where I hide my pleasure, cause you pursue it, and give it back
to me. You carry that on your sweet lips... It's just one long deep endless
moan of pleasure.
	And then we close our eyes. Hold me tight...
	Goodnight sweetheart, I love you...

				Rita S.
				October, 2001
				             for Irina

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