I have many verses
to decorate your body
and dress him in his best clothes.
Because when I write you
the brightness of your eyes is intense,
and then it arises
That beautiful smile.
And your smile...
Your smile is my world.

It's you

are you the foundation
holding the floor
are you the footprint
who plans the flight
are you that chest
golden feather

Dressing my dream

You are born
from my hands
when I write verses,
and molding your body in letters
surfing seas, even eternal love

And the pen
he told the paper ..
It is not ink that I spill,
it's my life in feelings

I have ready
The arms,
So that you fall asleep
Nestled between them
To hold you when
There is a storm
And you feel calm,
To feel close
The beating of your heart,
I have them ready
For you to stay ...

The pleasure of dreams
begins with tenderness
from the heart
and sensuality
of the soul.

The night is coming
the thoughts become a sigh
the heart accelerates its beats
the moon with its light appearing
and the dreams beginning,
caressing your beautiful eyes
kissing your sweet lips
inspired love verses
in your tender caresses.

The glitters of your beauty,
Those that silent distill
The aura of your charm,
Conjugating the aroma
Of your skin and hair
With your looks.
You attract my attention,
With your sophisticated
And simple smile,
You are spell,
You are charm,
It's you!

Tonight
I'm preparing
My dreams to take you
To my world of dreams
There I will reflect on you
My most beautiful fantasies
I will make you so mine
That you will not know
If you are dreaming
Or are you awake
Good night my Love

Our beats at the same pace.

Even when there is rain
Even when I almost do not see you
Even when there is distance
Even when everything is against
My heart, your song sings
And with you is my soul.

I whisper in the night time between the moon and sheets between the smell of coffee and the pulsating heart ...

The magic of your soul
The one that reminds me
With your eyes I lose my calm
And I do not stop you from contemplating

This desire
to make love to you
and prepare your coffee,
regardless of the order.

Amarte is uncertain madness,
Each kiss a verse
Every look a place
And from the north to the south a meeting.
Two loves
Predestined
Two restless souls
Two hearts together.

Your mouth is the gem
So beautiful with seduction
Your look a poem
That fills me with hope.

If you saw how I looked at you, you would know how the stars sound when they sing.

Take your hand and fly together ... and make the infinite born.

There are only three voices worthy to break the silence: that of poetry, that of music and that of love

Let me kiss your neck
And draw on your waist
A map of sensations
With the tips of my fingers,
While I whisper to your ear
The notes of my desire,
Sweetly blooming
Inside a secret sea,
Covered in fantasy
And drowned feelings.

You are my crystal shelter
Where I dream of an ocean of glory
In which I will be able to dive between nacre and mermaids
Balanced by your cinnamon arms
Musing perfumed melodies
With essence of hyacinths and lilies.

In your labyrinth I will intern,
when your flame goes out,
and among your letters I will look for you.
In your delightful look I will remember
longings and sighs of your heart
and again your spirit will invoke.

You know what I think,
when I read your thoughts.
We are in synchrony.
You know what I feel,
when I perceive your feelings.
We are in tune.
And, without being able to avoid it,
you miss me
when I miss you

How to draw your skin
How to write in your being
There is no poem or brush
At the height of a woman

Your look is my world
beautiful and without end

Your very erotic skin
soft and sensual

In your tenderness I lose myself
that so angelic

Thirst give those lips
that look like coral

Your breasts are my paradise
formed of glass

Nobody lives twice the same moment: fog dream, river of birds at the foot of the mountain.

The poetry
It is the mother
of all
the languages.

To love is to get lost and to be in time again and again.

Write the dark pulse of what you feel.
Feel the luminous pause of what you write.

I am inspired by the poetry of
your hands, the breath of
an ink that with kisses
write, between rhymes and stanzas
the beat of a heart.