Between the chords of a guitar playing in the background, the smoke of cigarettes and the rusty taste of a glass of wine, you came back to my memories.
My body trembled, remembering how you used to swing me in your arms, just like I was a guitar.
Your hands knew where to place, they ran through my skin provoking me to sigh.
Your fingers pulled chords out of my body, sometimes in the sound of a blues, others on starry nights you touched me and a rock and roll was heard...
While your mouth, was busy silencing my moans.
You knew how to play those strings, you knew me well, you delighted listening to me, as a sound instrument, you surrendered between my insinuating melodies and I lost myself to the master.
Ana Maria Ramis Thief Of Guevara
Beautiful Lady
Respect the author
Lo que Bella Dama esconde II
Your hands knew where to place, they ran through my skin provoking me to sigh.
Your fingers pulled chords out of my body, sometimes in the sound of a blues, others on starry nights you touched me and a rock and roll was heard...
While your mouth, was busy silencing my moans.
You knew how to play those strings, you knew me well, you delighted listening to me, as a sound instrument, you surrendered between my insinuating melodies and I lost myself to the master.
Ana Maria Ramis Thief Of Guevara
Beautiful Lady
Respect the author
Lo que Bella Dama esconde II
