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Feb 2016 · 506
the kiss
luis r santos Feb 2016
The clarity of your breath lightens, inflames my lips of a thousand moonless nights.
I want to kiss you while Spring is here. I want anguish and ice to melt.
in my mind a kiss takes form. at first it flows with a murmur,
ferments and I feel a river with mighty waterfalls..
a river snaking through a jungle of sensations
with margins velveted by moss and blue grass..

ah, what a kiss!
Jan 2016 · 712
in love with you
luis r santos Jan 2016
~

I am so in love with you! I feel it, I taste it, and say it as a herald of Love would! So in love with you, with your sugar coated skin of many naked nights! comparing you to a flower, to a rubi, to a queen, is absurd! I look at you with all my senses in a vertical mood. ***** to be seen. with the flag close to the sun.
And if I sing, if the soul rises above clouds, if the wind comes with its flutes and mandolins, I will be carving the air, the air!
a monument to your beauty!

~
Jan 2016 · 580
lips or petals?
luis r santos Jan 2016
~


yes
I believe that some words have a scent
of their own.

lips are petals?

yes! your lips are petals of a song!
your lips
that turn dusk into dawn.


~
Aug 2014 · 968
borrowed
luis r santos Aug 2014



I feel borrowed from water, earth, air and fire.
my roots spread in the way of the plow. ruin follow stem, corolla and perfume.
whirlwind of murderous steel will come upon.
skeletons of tomorrow will carry my pale colours on their shoulders, as crows carry on their plumage the last grains of day into the night.
there's a marble garden waiting, stained with the faeces of time.
there's no time for tears. only the rain is so kind as to refresh the countenance of solitary graves.

(Luis R Santos)



Jul 2014 · 717
your lips
luis r santos Jul 2014



your lips disturb.
often they wince and form the bud
of a nameless flower.
crowned by a veil of luxury they threaten to blossom
at the slightest touch.
what a delight to see them tremble like poppies
when blown by the breezes of my gaze!
your lips tinted with the most succulent red.
sculptors of endless kisses.
your lips steeped in mysteries.

(Luis R Santos)



— The End —