A scent of turquoise blue petals

dulcified unstoppable lust in the fantastic foreshore of desire.
You don’t die in me, dear, as you say. You just dream in the
unfathomable haven of my skin, which is outright craving yours.
Because when hope is shared, life rolls up on itself and becomes
endless.
I kept remembering the words she, my ardent sizzling lover of
superlative exquisite fragrance had written to me the previous night in
some pieces of paper coloured in blue; pieces that appeared to be
minute fragments of beauty and passion which had been delicately
uprooted from heaven itself. Meanwhile, my eyes wandered between
the lines of newspaper and stove, before which you stood, my faithful
wonderful wife, engaged in meal preparation tasks. I remember swiftly
taking a delicious hot sip of coffee while staring at you. Its flavour
suddenly frolicked in my taste buds and hovered in the most intimate
vicinities of my memory.
That coffee, by the way, helped me intensely remember the fascinating
passionate soiree I’d spent with my lover the very preceding evening,
the way my hands and my anxious fingers grazed and grasped her
smooth scented skin which, glance by glance, silence by silence and
stroke by stroke, I fulfilled with the perpetual energy of my most
frenzied concupiscent emotions, and where the innermost desire to