A breeze

Across the Mediterranean
and summer solstice
and the colors morphing and dancing

We kiss under the cherry tree
Thinking about substance
and the denial there of

She kisses the tip of my finger
lingering softly
she witnesses my shifting personalities

The sight of the Moon
grey silhuettes
and longing for the bossom

She kisses the whole of my hand
while I shelter her
takes her on my own accord

I drill holes in her body
whisper in her ears
her graceful movements fulfills the act

About Emil Hjort

Writer, poet and mysticist.
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