Even those meanings
around the corner
since the last moonlight
shadow arise here, in the middle
of the tongue, of the heat
called flesh and sex and burned
desire. When we found our eternal
tenderness between our bodies
and our shaped mouths
we fly to nowhere because our paradise
emerge, we are atomic bombs
fade-in into fire and sins, into kisses
and wet actions. So nowhere is the name
we put to our encounter because we can’t
recall the nomenclature of being united
by our warmed hands and chest.
So we fly once again to our mouth and we met
inside so we can deserve
a single word called silence, a singe piece of love.

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