El Hombre y La Mujer

“What is he doing to me?”

She wonders,

Speculating, how he does that?


That with utmost perfection, he makes her fall,

A fall that she used to fear,

Fear, that tasted sour,

Sour, or she’d say caustic,

Fear, of falling for a man, once again,

All over again, once again.


Fear, that all of a sudden vaporizes,

Vaporizes, the moment he touches her,

Touch, so fine that she never had before,

Touch, that at a time she wanted to run far from,

From touch, now at times that she deeply craves for,

Craves for, all over again, once again.


So fluently that he comes around,

Around, making an adorable wax melt for him already,

Already until, she sense him grazing,

Grazing, kissing softly at the ruck of her neck,

Embracing every fold and every curl,

And his warmth sending prickles to her all over,

All over, fuming the air with his kinky rojo scent.


And then,

Feeling him breathe right below her chin,

She steps back,

Back, because she still fears the fall,

Fall until, he grabs her by the waist,

Pulls her back,

Back again, making her gasp a hollow moan,

Moan, so silent that her heart skips a beat,

For, she sniffs him by her side,

For, she feels a man by her side.



She keeps pondering, how he does that?

Crafting her fall,

A fall, she no longer fears,

A fall, she now longs for,

In essence,

Mastering the skill, akin a boss.