Source
I breathe the memory of a scent that exalts every pore of the skin even in the lethargy of an almost eternal dream where the desire to wake up and intensify all the pleasure that emanates from the passion of two beings when they love each other converges.
But the fear is installed from the disjunctive of waking up, and that reality is only part of a breath exalted by the need to relive in solitude... what is no longer there.
In this dreamlike world, the senses are exacerbated, intoxicated by the essence of a lost love. Caresses and kisses emerge with a vehemence that seems to defy the fleetingness of sleep.
Each caress, each sigh, is a desperate attempt to prolong the union of two souls yearning for each other, clinging to the hope that this moment will not fade like the mist at dawn.
But cruel reality awaits, like a spectre threatening to break the spell of reverie. And the soul writhes, struggling to hold on to those ephemeral moments of ecstasy and reunion, aware that, upon awakening, only the echoes of a love that no longer has a place in the waking world will remain.
The dream becomes a sacred refuge, an oasis where two exiled souls can meet, if only for a fleeting moment, to satiate the yearning of a love that no longer has a body or a voice.