Maniac winds brought me to the side of my windows,

and I saw her coming from the opposite shelter…

piercing through the lights. 

Holding her hair like a free mane, over her wet back.

There were no obscurity in ambience, just the beauty of a drowning tree in impeccable streams. 

I didn’t know her…I never wanted to know her, 

knowing is the fractures in long stretched highways. 

All I wanted was to see her breasts full of forgotten roots 

and her eyes like old storms. 

But she only gave me her back. 

The wet back. 

One more woman deprived me from drinking her.

…………………………………………………………………..

Photograph: Google.