Let me go,
the skin is contained
the laughter, silent.

Let me go,
Is the desire wasted
or does the night persuade?

The desire is wasted…

Let me go
and warm my dreams up
for the cold morning,
when the sexy woman dies
and the lady conquers.

Because
I don’t want to suffer in your mouth
nor die either when I cannot have your love.

Let me go,
don’t make room for me
if I’m not your morning boob.

A.

Photography by Natalia Gónzalez Pérez