Torero

Your scent on my handkerchief
like your hand on mine
my pillow still has the shape of your head
and I don't want to get up

The steam escapes from under the bathroom door
the satin robe covering the rest of you
your wet hair
your big blue eyes
and those perfect high cheecks
are where I begin
and where I end

Your voice
pronouncing my name with a foreign accent
like your lips
in tangy red wine
remind me of gipsies and fairies
could not have told our story
how many ears it would take to paint your body
how many sighs it steals from me
and how my hands are constantly discovering
and rediscovering you
as my lips find the perfect path
between your breasts and your thighs
covered under my red cape
I'm your bullfighter
your map
and yet so far away