Open, please.

Kiss me with your eyes open. I will do the same with you, Who decided that it was better to keep them closed anyways? It must have been someone who was ashamed of what they were doing. Not me though... I want to keep them open as your lips touch mine, as your tongue searches for mine, as my teeth bite your lower lip, as you suck my tongue and our palates become one. I want to look real deep in your eyes and analyze what you feel, as I see my image mirrored in them. I want to guess what kind of emotions are going through your mind as our kiss goes deeper,and our hands start exploring each others bodies, touch me, squeeze me, scratch me, break me. Keep your heart closed and never let me in. Please.

Desperation.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures"- I´ve always heard this phrase, but never really analized it. How desperate do you have to be ,to do something that you disagree with? Does desperation give you warning signs? Is it a sudden thing, or does it brew in your brain for a while and one day...BOOM! it´s done. For those who know me, it ain´t weird that I think about these things. But for those who don´t , you´re probably thinking "what is she desperate for? what did she do?" - nothing, is the correct answer. I usually have random thoughts, and the "theme du jour" happened to be desperation. There´s people who are desperate for: attention, money, fame, love, food, vacation, acknowledgement ,etc...and it´s very easy to cross the thin line that divides "healthy desperation/ unhealthy desperation". The division of these two worlds lies in what you are willing to do to accomplish the thing you are desperate for. Everybody, at some point of their lives is desperate for something, usually it´s for attention. Some people scream to get it, others send subliminal messages, some get naked, others cry, some write...(me), and then there are the ones that don´t do anything even though they want to, they are able to control themselves and their impulses, which makes me wonder "HOW CAN THEY DO IT?". The times that I controled my desperation towards someone, I ended up sending it into someone else´s direction. Where was I going with this text?...I don´t know...shit. I guess I was just desperate to write. Ok, bye now.

B.S.

Crazy Saturday, the Saturday where she had enough. She cried the whole night after she realised she meant nothing to him, but he kept pretending. When it hurts that bad, the only thing that can ease up the pain is usually more pain. A painkiller can make you forget for about 30 minutes, you laugh, cry, laugh, cry, fall asleep. Die. And when you die, it´s hard to make you live and believe again. He knew all of this, she told him...time and time again. How many times, can you warn someone that you are drifting apart? Usually the amount of times you warn them is proportional to how much you love them, therefore the amount of times your warnings are ignored should be proportional to the lack of interest. "Why is he pretending? Is he afraid to be alone? "- she asked the mirror. The mirror did what mirrors do : it reflected her raw image. The image of a woman in pain, with swollen hurt eyes, disheveled hair and a broken soul. Crazy Saturday, the Saturday he had enough. He ignored her,and her crazy shit the whole night when he realised she loved him too much. When you really don´t care ,there´s nothing you can do to go the other way. You need no distractions, because you already have enough, everything is more important than the person you´re ignoring. She knew he didn´t care, he showed her...time and time again. How many times , do you have to show someone that you couldn´t care less? Usually the more you show them, the more they are into you, and the more they are into you ,the more you have to hurt them. "Why doesn´t she get it? Is she afraid to be alone?" -he asked the mirror. The mirror did what mirrors do: it reflected his raw image. The image of a man who doesn´t care, with dazed eyes, long hair and a broken soul.

Break

The only sunshine you get nowadays, it's the reflection of the real deal on others, therefore, it's artificial not natural. By the time it reaches you, it's already cold...not even warm, ice cold. It shines but it doesn't confort you, as the old saying goes: not everything that shines is gold.
You have so much rage in you, you could make a fire with it and it would burn for days.
You're trapped in your own skin. Your skin is beautiful from a far, if you look up close, it's dry and hurt.
And to think that all you ever wanted was a break, not big, not small...just a break.

Yours/Mine

Resting my head on my pillow, feeling you breathing on my neck, hugging me from behind. Skin on skin, no clothes in between... whispering sexy words in my ear, nibbling on my earlobe, squeezing me against you. Oh, what a feeling! Carry me in your arms to a Land where we have wild, sunshiny dreams... As the Moon shines on us, I open my eyes to make sure you're still here, you are... This time, with your back turned to me, how I love that skin of yours. I can imagine myself resting next to it forever.
I kiss you on your neck and your back,you sigh, you wake up, you hold me...I lay on your chest, listen to your hearbeat, while mine slowly stops and I die happy.

Power shift.

One day, you wake up and realize that they also have the power to hurt you.
-How is it possible?-you ask. - I thought I was the only one who had that power. With this realisation , many more will come. Like the time you told them the sky was blue, just to make them happy...they told you the World was round to make you happy. To you, the sky is white,and to them, the World is cubic.
All those times you looked them in the eye, and told them you loved them when you weren't sure? They knew, and did exactly the same.
Remember that time you hugged them and said it would be alright, when you knew it would only get worse? They pretended to believe you, and hugged you right back. And yesterday, when you passed them on the street ,closed your eyes and became invisible until they passed you? Well, they looked at you with your eyes closed, frozen like a statue, but they didn't see you.
The next day, you wake up and feel like a fool.

Skin / Pele

White skin, milky skin
where I lose myself, where I find myself
Soft skin, tattooed skin
the skin that I bite, totally untouched
It tastes like the beach,it tastes like soil
It feels like I´ve sailed it before
It feels like I´ve explored it before
Red eyes, honey eyes
orange eyes...how can I look at you and not touch you?

Pele branca, pele de leite
em que me perco e me encontro
pele macia, pele tatuada
a pele que mordo, totalmente intocada.
Sabor a praia, sabor a terra
É como se já aqui tivesse navegado
é como se já te tivesse explorado
Olhos vermelhos, olhos cor de mel,
olhos laranja...como te ver, sem te tocar?