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harolrock
In all my verses, I only find you; In the immensity of sound, the notes delicately whisper your name, and in every subtle detail of everyday life, I find the small infinity of your nuances. There is no goodbye in the anxiety of reunion, nor are there limits to feelings that overflow. There is only the incessant will and all the dreams that blossom from it. In your body, I dock like a ship at the pier; on your skin, I leave the soft mark of my touch like a tattoo; In its depths, I flow like an ocean, flowing and expanding. In your arms, warmth welcomes me; In the comfort of your lap, I dawn. Even if loneliness comes, and it is as subtle as the absence itself, it will not last because just one thought is enough for me to be in you. Just a second, and all the time will be ours. In some galaxy, on the plane of possibilities, in other dimensions or multiverses, we will continually be vibrating at the same frequency. Of all the most beautiful flowers, you are the one to whom beauty owes its name.
harolrock
"If you come, for example, at four o'clock in the afternoon, from three o'clock I will start to be happy." Even if all I had was a brief moment of your presence, the eternity of the feeling and the indissoluble depth of the shared experience would never disappear within me. Just as sound reverberates, in waves, through infinity, the will that magnetizes us and is completed in the glow of our skin expands and becomes entangled quantumly in the great universe of possibilities. In the silence left between the words, there is the impeccable texture of a statement never made, but which sincerely emerges as easy laughter and the incessant exchange of warmth and glances. Even if I don't hold your hand, I feel the warmth and the invitation, I hear from within the enveloping plea for completeness. I get lost without ever wanting to find myself again. I leave myself in you as part of everything I was and now I continue to be surrounded by yours in my being. I let you take me and, finally, by your side, I enjoy the journey.
harolrock
The body, that weak physical instrument, is not capable of satisfactorily satisfying all the fantasies that the powerful and unlimited consciousness can conceive. In the plenitude of her immortality, she can delight in sexual fantasies for hours and days at a time, while the body, her poor carnal servant, can only satisfy them for a few seconds, never satisfactorily realizing her grandiose ambitions. In her presence, it becomes inevitable to see how infinite, multiple and unrealizable desires are. In the presence of your natural, spontaneous and delicate seduction, dreams multiply, just as the desire for touch vehemently deepens. Touching her and integrating with her is more than a mere desire; it is an imperative, a clear and categorical urgency. There is no way to resist its explicit magnetism, the art of its curves and the silent and sweet call that emanates, like a shy light, from its almond-shaped eyes. I would wait as long as it took for the fullness of its splendor.
