Like a rainbow

Rolling Stones She's A Rainbow 1966

     How does she come?  My beloved.  Like a rainbow my friend.

     From the side, sultry slide, so beautiful, so hidden, like a child trying so desperately to sneak, yet like a woman, so longing to be viewed.  By him.  She wants to be seen.  She longs for his eyes to devour her.  Tension building.  The soft peel.  Gentle reveal.  Soft slide so subtle, she will reveal, yet only if I act like I don't know, yet she knows he sees.

     The ballet begins.  Her blouse slides, as unfastening button follows each to each.  The gentle game.  Revelation of her skin, so unblemished, so perfect, so heated.  It calls for his touch, fire erupts from her my friend.  Her eyes, so dark, so light.  She longs for him, he, he longs for her.  Yet she stays so far... so close. 

    Life eternal is only a touch away.    Primal fusion burns.  She is so ready... so willing... so.... wanting.  Yet she remains distant.  He longed to worship her.  To caress her.  To rejoice in every curve, every magnificence of all that is her.  Yet she, my most beautiful girl, stays just a moment out of touch.  She longs to be loved.  To be rejoiced upon.  But the world has taught her something so different.  Her beauty has been beaten by so many others that she believes that she does not deserve, does not warrant, to have her deepest desires fulfilled.

   She cannot see her majesty.  The beauty unabashed in every curve.  The magnificence of each bend, every turn, of all that is her.  The burning of her red.  Her... so soft... so tight... so hard... her body of contradictions so beautiful.  Will she know?  Does she know?   She is loved beyond compare.

Beyond...

compare.

     In her beauty, in her ecstasy, she need feel no shame.  She is safe in his embrace.  She is his.  She explode life.  She is a rainbow.   

Even a blind man could see that's no so

Queen - Under Pressure Mega Remix

He was a fool.  He had walked along the piazza.  It was so many years ago.  The lines were so clear.  You were a rebel, or you so blindly followed him.  Franco. 

The cobblestone corners of every edge.   It's clay brown that melted each into each.  In the center was a fountain.  The children, how they would play.  Salud. 

Before... he remembered.  She would dance.  Half in the light, half in the shadows.  Though her business would go down, who knows who she would capture, enrapture, in that slight alleyway. 

He knew.

Yet he would lie, if he did not tell you he knew the pleasure of her hip.  The delight of her thigh, so simple, so strong, so sweet.  How they undulated, so tight, waiting for his hands to rise forever higher towards her... towards her.  So warm enveloping soft.  Her.  So sweet. 

So it was.

He left to join the supporters.  Clothes misaligned.  Mauser remnant from some forgotten war.  His squad little more than a collection of iniiduals.  So unwilling to fight.  Unwilling to realize all that was at stake.  Freedom... or Franco... you decide. 

She had made her decision.  He snuck to the piazza during the war.  He saw her, pulled so close to Octavio, Antonio, or maybe even Brayden as no Spanish name he could find started with a" BL" as she was caught in some "Affair to remember."  Remember what?  He was never really sure.  Perhaps before she was such a rover.  Finding completeness away from the Jorges she was married to.

Vive bien mi dulce  Conozco a tu cuno con firmeza por nada menos  eue pour mi.  Los encuentras huecos.  Qui asi sea.  Duerme bien mi amor.  Dorme bien.