Getting pregnant,
with her,
instilling the addictive sense,
the incense, the aura,
the touch of an instance..
the smile of the heart,
the embers of the burning feeling,
the flairs of the charm,
creating a sweet, beautiful harm.
Caressing her,
like a baby,
making it to communicate,
to express,
the unexpressable,
and a few more kisses,
taking them into a fuelling retardedness,
but keeping it slow,
relishing each word of the world.
The euphony,
the intonation,
the literary stance,
the hugeness of it,
lying there,
in the hands,
inspired by the utter romance,
its the poetry,
and… she will be loved!
Writing belly 