You get a glimpse at your soul when you are selling it or buying it back.
She wanted me to leave all my baited hooks and run to her beach.
How much of me would I have to surrender to swim in her world.
Knowing this I consciously began what would in time become routine.
She would have a first class ticket waiting for me at the Iberia counter and eight hours later we were tangled in silk sheets across the Atlantic.
She needed me and I had no idea what I needed, but her breast felt like home.
Thirty year old me thirsted and she squeezed her almost fiftieth into the cup that runneth over.
Her breast weren't engorged yet her nipples were on point.
Sex always sex.
She wouldn't cry anymore, if there was any weeping to be done it would be me.
She had inherited Pierre and I had inherited Carolina.
Broken hearted me would suffer ambiguity, yet I knew the sun would rise.
She had and I craved.
I became her familiar in an unfamiliar place.
She trophied me around to the strangers who ran her manor, just as proud as sometime ago I filled my mouth with the words "she is mine" only aware that now I was hers.
I became Carolina's captive bird and Europe became my mistress.
Playing the game long enough teaches you who you are to yourself and I wasn't a bird, I was now the hawk.
Fortune had recompensed her for the sterile environment yet I wasn't the offspring I was the troubled troubadour.
Andorra, Barcelona, Tarragona would stitch their sisters to my sinister poems and Carolina would provide.
Not that they were all whores but we whored around. If you buy my poems and pay me with the warmth of your loins is it equitable?
Txaro had inked her body and I intended to lick it out of her.
The dragon that adorned her dared me to have it come out and I made it come over and over. She hated me for it.
To be continued.
