Writer, author, short story writer, poet, youtuber, blogger.
I fell in love with a ghost,
a male soul of the eighteenth century.
He arrive at my nights of black clarity,
rimmed with waves and sensuality.
of right steps my man beloved.
His translucent hands feel my skin,
Asleep woman or awake, my being is exalted.
His face looks at me and I close my eyes,
my skin does not resist their cravings.
I ignore the beings of skin,
their acting to good is defective.
Mortals that swim with sins,
I can not resist their hypocritical voices,
With excuses, evenings arrive at appointments.
And his quick temporary kisses go away,
in the mind, in the days that they suffer
the crows of the silent nights.
The present perfume of my man beloved,
It subjugates me and I fall in loved.
Tied to my spirit, loves me
and he adores me.
Between sighs and clear shadows,
we dilute ourselves in nothingness.
The love of centuries ago
Lover who projects the baritone tone,
Pleated sentences anchored for hundreds of years.
My voice mixes with his.
And together we sing in duo,
to the chorus of thousands of voices of angels.
A kiss looks shy and then it will become bold.
In the dance with my floaty dress,
my waist is taken by his hands ...
Our looks come together,
and I float, I dance in the air, while he drives me,
at will, between the sound of the flute and the lyre.
Lover of the invisible man
I'm single in spirit,
divorced from soul.
I am free and I receive the love;
it falls in my basket without worries.
My love is not a forbidden love,
neither sinful nor harmful.
I am lover of the invisible man,
faithful to his translucent love.
His kisses rhyme with my hair,
and I do not sin, because it only lives in
the mirages of the imagination.
Consciousness navigates clean
in the hours of glass, attached to
the transitory rains.
The spirit in love
In a refuge of spirits;
a woman full of failed loves,
laid down down his glass face.
Far to the familiar sierra,
he approached a large, painted stone.
Lucia dressed with verses of stamens, and dawns
He saw a gentleman reflected.
they arose of the almost invisible man.
She came up with her feelings in zero,
and examining its appearance,
He heard his audible voice,
Full of auroras, dawns and skies.
Plethoric of verses and eloquence,
in a frame I was locked,
the abstract entity of the manly portrait.
It came out of its isolation,
he kissed her, and she delighted.
He with tears in his eyes said:
I am sorry.
"It was just a ghost in a painting
that hung in layers,
on the wall of his dwelling. "
The silent stay
The silent stay has hidden stories,
behind the hours
Voices are heard and there is no one,
laughter is heard and everything is empty.
sensations in braille,
They touch the skin bristling with fright.
Events of yesteryear stir time.
Common events of people and mistime.
The walls perceive the absent auras,
and gives off a hundred thousand thoughts.
What will be what surrounds the silent room?
ghosts? Or some surviving soul?
Nobody knows; but everyone feels it;
customs adhered to the atoms of the seconds...
The silent stay,
will be populated with more sensations
with the new scripts
of the owners of their environment...
The new inhabitants have arrived!
Millions of energies wallow...
The silent room is full.
The atmosphere feels heavy.
It has been mixed;
the present and the past.
Translucent their whitish and ethereal robes.
The mystery is around,
In the light and in the dark.
They fly placidly at night,
They go through walls and no one sees them.
They travel at will in the chosen environment.
They get close to their loved ones,
and no one sees it.
Somebody can sense it,
but you won't be sure
of the true essence.
© 2018 Venus Mary