I prefer your pores.

I prefer your pores.

Although sometimes they close

when I say out of temper phrases.

I prefer them,

despite the suspicion with which they keep

your first illusions

They are the excuse and guilty

that I lose my manners.

They are a bed of passions

that they shelter like mother

every kiss that I leave you,

so kind that open like a flower

at the heat of March.

Yes, I prefer your pores.

When your body shakes.

When they exude tiredness and pleasure.

When they respond to my caresses.

When they smell like a woman…

All rights reserved

Author: Lugh Landrus

Venezuela

June: 2020