A muse that I’ve created
whispered me approaching too much
like a stone gliding in water.
I was watching her sticking
to my chest like a chimney
and waiting for the heat to embrace it.
The only thing that was keeping us together
were her hands like trembling leaves
under the ribs.
Maybe she wanted to snatch one
but it had already been snatched
by my wife a long time ago.
She uses it as a temptation for men.

I just got off the fight,
the place is empty,
the skin keeps me together, but vulnerable
to any visceral woman,
therefore, I’m using words.
in order not to lose my head
I’d better give in to them
liquid feelings.