So, what I am supposed to understand about playing geometry around her sex?

Perhaps it is like swimming, that kind of philosophy which flows through her long, straight, hair, describing smooth waves. Those castaways fingers of mine in your calm sea.

Perhaps it is like kites in the sky, or planes flying even higher, feeling jealous of that pale skin of yours, my own and personal Milky Way. My guideline, my compass, a curved smile as my North.

Then, where are those words?, because I do not have enough. Just give me languages, teach me those undescribed, and maybe unreal sentences to describe our Neverending Story.

It is like a dance played by cathartic musicians following the rules of a pentagram spell, with enchanted chords, and a shining director in a period of grace.
Flaming baton driving my light to the beginning of the excellence.


Because,

have you ever felt her sweat coming out because of yours?
have you ever been basic for another?
and have you ever felt that crazy?

Such a primal need.
Like heart beating is.