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En mi mundo paralelo

En mi mundo paralelo todos los días son nuestros. En él desperté temprano para preparar el desayuno, porque elegiste el horario de mañana en el trabajo. En mi mundo paralelo te convenzo a besos de estar un poco más en cama.

En ese mundo te puedo abrazar todos los días antes de salir de casa, hacemos el amor por las tardes, en ruso, en alemán, en español... porque podemos. En mi mundo paralelo bailamos salsa sin mayor excusa sin público, como el primer día que nos vimos.

En ese mundo paralelo yo escribo versos interminables con tu belleza mientras tú cantas, yo te abrazo cuando estás cansada, tú me cuentas de Rusia, de casa, yo te escucho con la mirada en la perfección de tus ojos.

En mi mundo paralelo buscamos a Peter Pan en Londres, paseamos de la mano por Paris, y recibimos el año nuevo en Sídney. En ese mundo me enseñas dónde vive tu corazón en Rusia y yo te llevo a la finca de café en México donde siempre quisiste hablar español.

En mi mundo paralelo sin embargo seguimos siendo nosotros, tú mientes todo el tiempo mientras yo me pierdo tanto en ti que no me encuentro. En mi mundo paralelo seguimos buscando lo que hemos encontrado estando lejos en el mundo real.

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It was just another time

It was a moan, it was her breathing.  It was the end of innocence.  It was not only the curiosity of the time,  it was the hidden feeling behind.  It was just a kiss, why not?  It was just the fifth bottle of champagne.  The good times need the best liquor.  It was then just a try.  Just her hand in her hand,  it was just a witness surprised.  It was just a moment to stop,  it was just a time to look at the eyes.  It was then the next song,  it was a weird time.  It was another kiss in the eyes.  It was dancing together,  it was falling behind.  It was just another kiss, then another one. It was that electric feeling,  knowing that something is going to end bad.  It was just the delicacy of the moment,  it was just a time.  It was not passionate or wild,  it was curiosity and discovery chance.  It was touching here a...

Useless

I asked a poet to write about you, in the middle of London, next to the river. It was announced he could write anything on paper, at any rate, all the times I wanted. I told him who you were. I used my best words to describe your soft and shiny hair. I spoke about the darkness of those eyes, the strength living in their colour and the power they have to look. I tried to detail the delicacy of your nose and the softness of your lips. And I stopped there and came back in the sensations you were provoking. I had no words for the miracle of your smile. It was automatic; it should be there. I went down to your neck, soft and clean, always smelling like the sweetest perfume that makes me feel lost. Then your shoulders, then your hands then your breast. I got crazy of telling him about the miracles living in the waist and the storms you provoke in your hips. And then I went on. And then I couldn't stop. Your legs, the way you walk and the incredible sensations you were producing...

If you were another piece of words

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