Sede...*

There we were.

Contemplanting the silence with both our heads experimentating a not so "spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings".
We both needed it.
We were pouring ideas from & to each other's minds...
If only telepathic and mutual wishes could source from the same fountain of will. Fools!
I drank the contemplation of your skin.
You drank the contemplation of whatever myriad of mystery is my astonishment of your thirst.
Here we are.

Laura Rocha, a nom de plume.

* A culpa é da poesia do botão que nos desafia.