I just painted my soul’s lips,

I have scented my heart and now I get within my skin, moisturizing his essence with almond cream, I caress her gently,

I slide my hands between my breasts while looking at myself in the mirror.

The skin I inhabit becoming large, some days fast and furiously, some others slowly and without noise,

The skin I inhabit is my home, it is also his, he became strong, tight and full of lust, taking constant care of my desires,

When he is here I turn on all the lights, making a great blessing of my existence,

Happiness is warming the winter, and he, he walks excitedly through my gardens, gathering the fruits of the sowing of the day,

Cooking spicy, making a rainbow with an uncolored straw,

Juicy savors, tasty hands, running around, searching for places inside of me like an orphan calf.

Afterwards, he sits on the huge sofa, looking up at the moonlight, taking a deep breath and smiling happily as if he were alone.

But… behind that gesture, I can always find my moistened skin and my wounded soul.