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I bet you that my lips
are the measure of your kisses,
like a verse in rhyme,
like a river in time,
flowing in the echo of a desire,
whispering secrets to the wind.
That my waist, contour of the moon,
is made to be touched by your hands,
as the sea caresses the sand,
as the sky embraces the ocean,
melts in the subtle dance
of an eternal, passionate embrace.
That my hands, soft caresses,
are waiting for your warmth,
like flowers longing for the rain,
like a sun looking for the dawn,
tracing paths on your skin,
drawing our love in the air.