There is so much heart to add to the equation that solves the unknown of your skin. The tagent of my soul is entangled in your integrals of short skirt that divide the time and subtract any rest of sanity.
You’re imprisoned in my retina, a golden feeling of seeing you pass among the lines of these sheets, but I draw myself parallels in the curves of your compass; illogical and unreasonable mathematics that increases my desire.
Lost. I’m left over me wants and lack me fingers with which to join me to the cardinal points of your body. Geometry among verses that draw you at dawn like rectangles of sheets where we lose our reason.
Pencil and paper to find the direct function to your nudity, algorithm that shut me up tne code of your ribs. Problems pile up me to hug the rhythm of your heart.