Thirsty for pleasure

Hearts that beat,
who sigh,
looks that want to stay,
a desire to feel that insists every day,
who doesn’t give up.

Thoughts, dreams, your perfume,
the desire to travel every centimetre, latent, implicit.
Because we both want it and we know it,
because the glances confess it, she betrays us.

We fervently await the instant
in delighting our senses,
in which our bodies come closer,
touch, take, unbuckle.
and burn with caresses.

The moment our breaths are so close that they fatigue us
and that the eagerness of our lips to feel is satiated,
because only a false step will make this longing a reality.

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Just sleep, mom.

Every minute of life was a challenge for her, her eyes could barely open to see the face of her son always by her side, who spent sleepless nights taking care of his sleep. As she looked out the window she could remember the moments she had lived, she smiled, but also saddened, as tears came discreetly out of her eyes, how many things could go through her head? The persistence of her illness and pain led her to desire death, yet she did not surrender to it by observing the suffering in her son’s gaze, thus postponing the “peace” it could offer her, renouncing to diminish the pain, and struggling a little for a few more days of life.

She felt the immeasurable need to approach a supreme being, she was looking for something, something that would offer her tranquility, she was looking for faith everywhere, in words, people, churches, religions, why not look before him? why now? she asked herself, but she was still there, she knew that he would listen to her prayers, she wanted to live, even if her body gave her signs to the contrary.

In spite of the pain her smile was her best weapon, she always tried to do it, she, her malignant companion, could not erase it, even in her painful medical sessions, immersed in medicines, even when her body refused to intense treatments, she made the best effort, from the hand of her son, who was her cane, her friend and accomplice, together they faced her managing to win some battles.

But his son could see his fight that afternoon disguised with a slight smile invented for him, he took his hand quietly caressing his uncertainty, as if he did not want to get rid of it, he knew he suffered, the pain assaulted her, that mitigating it was absurd, evil had taken hold of her.

He loved her with all his being, so he approached her with a prolonged and tender kiss on her forehead, he knew it was the last one, only three words with a choppy voice as a result of a knot in his throat, he said: “only mother rests”, and an ephemeral smile from his mother bid farewell to the moment, that afternoon the tenuous rays of the sun came in through the window and fell on his now grayish face submerged in a deep sleep, and without pain

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