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What is Romance?


Reading books RomanceReading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.
In this genre the characters can be both real historical figures and the author's imagination. Thanks to such historical romantic novels, you can see another era through the eyes of eyewitnesses.
Critics will say that romance is too predictable. That if you know how it ends, there’s no point in reading it. Sorry, but no. It’s okay to choose between genres to get what you need from your books. But in romance the happy ending is a feature.It’s so romantic to describe the scene when you have found your True Love like in “fairytale love story.”




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Read books online » Romance » Slight touch by E. A. (korean novels in english txt) 📖

Book online «Slight touch by E. A. (korean novels in english txt) 📖». Author E. A.



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an endless game of tragedy and desire.

The city also knows of my love for you,

keeps it safe behind the walls of houses,

perfumed by jazmines in bloom,

dancing on the cobblestones

to the fading tune of some old tango.

 

City by the river

Wish you were here

so se could get lost

in hidden archways

and entangle our limbs

in a night long embrace.

Wish you were with me,

in the city by the river,

lost in each other,

just to find ourselves again

in the small deaths of climaxes.

Wish you were here

so I could see your beauty

melting in my life

to renew itself in an eternal circle.

Protected by the city by the river,

silent witness of what was,what is

and what will be.

 

Time

The hourglass on the mantelpiece

smiles kindly on my minutes,

the ones lived,the ones drifting,

the ones gone into memory.

The moon entering my bedroom

shines softly on my seconds,

the ones enjoyed,the ones grieved,

the ones fading just now.

Rising and setting suns give light to my hours,

the ones already folded away,

the ones going on to their end,

the ones left to live and die.

All of them know, I am the keeper of secrets

in the House of Love and Memory.

All know,while weaving my existence,

you visit me when nights are dark

and smile from the depths of Time.

Buenos Aires,May 2018.

 

"Thresholds"

Some thresholds await no brides,

some thresholds wait for lovers.

Some thresholds have no stories,

some thresholds vibrate with life.

Some hold their secrets tightly,

some tell their stories openly.

Some sleep in the numbness of years,

some are always awake,waiting.

Ours is still there,in our city,

abandoned to the dark nights

of your absence and my presence

in the city that held us together,

under a night full of stars.

 

Fountains

I tried to find your face

in the moving waters of fountains.

I tried to hear your voice

in the hum of a thousand sounds.

I tried to feel again your skin

in the passing pleasure of minutes.

I tried to embrace again your body

in the spiraling vortex of climaxes.

And,despairing to find you I realized

I carried you within myself,

woven into every blood vessel and sinew.

I realized I had somehow become you

in my everlasting quest for togetherness

 

Leave taking

From the days of your absence,

the abyss of your indifference,

the coldness of your silence,

from the solitude of my days,

I have piled up my earnings,

I have counted my blessings,

I have packed my belongings,

I have hit that scary, open road,

I have walked my talk of bravery,

I have become myself once again,

I have retrieved my own power,

I have left you to your own self,

left you to the ropes of your making,

to the whips and chains of games,

to the days and nights without me,

without my body, without my love,

without my tears, without my lust,

I have left you to your own self,

I have left you to your own journey.

 

Frenzy

Just clothes coming off,

eager hands everywhere,

mouths eager to taste

the juices of arousal,

desire taking over reason,

lust coursing through bodies,

climaxes taking over lives,

erasing names, time and place

so we are born once again

to everyday life and primal desire.

 

Knowledge

I just know,

I want you still,

I dream of you still,

maybe love you still.

My collar still bears

your initials in any case,

only you can unlock it.

Collar, padlock, and sub,

all respond to your touch.

 

 

Lost

 

Just lost in the broken crystals

of your corrosive absence,

just lost in the dried petals

that still scent some old book,

just lost in the city by the river,

just lost in its old,old streets,

just lost in the sounds of a tango,

just lost in the air of these skies,

just lost in memories of our time

and the present joy of your existence.

 

It is not the collar

It is not the collar,

it is not the chain,

it is not the flogger,

it is not the pain.

It is not fear or hate,

it is not even love,

though this one lurks

in dark corners,

of minds and cities...

It is not the collar,

it never was,

the sub chose it,

so she could give

someone she trusted

the only key...

 

 

She

Dressed in black,

corseted tightly,

her spike heels

chant omens.

Her marble skin

is cold to the touch

but burns like ice.

She speaks softly,

her voice is sultry,

her words precise,

she walks proudly,

she definitely is not

for the faint of heart.

 

The agreement

She was naked,

he was fully dressed,

she wore her collar,

he wore his suit and tie,

she carried a red rose,

he carried a silver chain,

they decided that night

never to part again,

signed their agreement

under candlelight,

exchanged chain and rose,

and put them aside,

he let her undress him,

and they became one.

The dawn found them

in each other`s arms,

peacefully sleeping,

after their journeys,

together at long last.

 

Stripper

 

She stood on stage,

her legs apart,

eyed all and no one.

When music started

she spat her lines,

while she gyrated

and slowly undressed.

"Here`s to love,

my dear friends,

warms you in Winter,

scorches in Summer,

if it lasts till then...

Her bra lost one strap,

the music went dead

she rotated slowly

and sang again,

"Here`s to lust,

my dear friends,

it keeps you alive,

when all is gone,

lust for sex, lust for life.

Her bra fell, on she went,

"Here`s to friendship,

that noble flame,

it helps many times,

again and again...

Her body gyrated,

she opened her arms,

swayed her hips and sang,

"And here`s to time,

that will take us all,

the master of life,

killer of seconds,

Lord of pain and pleasure..."

Her G-string fell on stage,

she was naked at last.

And when all had left,

either excited or bemused

the stripper still sang,

"Here is to love,

here`s to lust...",

tears falling slowly

on her naked skin,

lighting the empty place,

waiting for another day

and another show to begin.

 

Lovers

Maybe it was not for us

to sit at the porch,

nursing our drinks,

watching the sunset...

Maybe it was not for us

to get a tray with coffee,

marmalade and toast

in the early mornings,

maybe it was not for us

to fight over the paper,

maybe it was not for us

to celebrate anniversaries

with dinner under candlelight.

What was for us was the frenzy

of passion in its full pathos,

the total loss of ourselves,

the oblivion of climaxes,

falling into a vortex of desire

to emerge scarred by it all

and walk among rushing crowds,

carrying our unfolded secret,

that never-dying joy

at each other`s existence.

 

Remains

Just rags eaten by moths,

dust on old books,

dried petals without scent,

that is all that remains

from a thwarted love affair,

a secret buried in old linen

together with lavender sachets.

Memories in a house no one visits,

a garden left untended,

tears turned into nothingness,

while the pale sun of Winter

warms the porch that waits for no one.

 

You,now.

"You, now"

And it is now, while alone,

that I see you, back in time,

the young man you used to be,

with tousled hair and a smile,

your faded jeans and old jacket,

covering your graceful limbs,

marble-like skin of sweet scent

that lingers in my memory still...

And it is now, while alone,

that your dear image I embrace

and could not love you more.

 

"Garden"

Our garden remembers

our long conversations,

our garden remembers

your smile and our joy,

your easy-going ways,

my complex musings,

our days together,

that unique treasure

untarnished by time,

undefiled by memory,

living forever in the air

among the old trees

of our beloved garden.

 

"Rose petals"

Rose petals just lost

to the passing of years,

to the tricks of memory,

fading seconds and hours.

Rose petals lost in books,

still keeping their perfume,

scented with sweet loves,

desire and old passions...

 

"Sunset"

Sunset in the city,

our city by a river,

sunset in the city,

our love still present

in the old stones,

in the new buildings,

in the tall bridges

over our old river..

 

Debt

I owe you, wholeheartedly,

with a high-interest rate,

my most beautiful lines,

my gut-wrenching poems,

words like crystal goblets

smashing against stone walls...

stories drenched in love,

stories hiding passionate joys,

characters shaped and built

to fit the city where we met,

the city with the dark river

and the old rusty bridges.

Our city lost you to the world

but regained me to bear witness

of her everlasting changes,

of our refusing to die story,

I am the priestess without a name,

forever lighting the torches

in some long forsaken temple.

 

Tired time

And time grew wary of us,

of our never-ending fights

with past and present,

with years slipping quietly by

and hourglasses smashed,

with passion always burning

in empty rooms with cold beds,

of curtains drawn together

and fireplaces without warmth.

Time grew wary of us both,

of our fears and fantasies,

of our easy nonchalance,

just bravado to keep away

the fleeting seconds,

the unforgiving minutes

and the slowly passing hours...

 

Another time, another life…

In the old city of canals,

of narrow winding streets,

in the city of dark waters

and bridges of mystery,

there is a time when all stops

and goes back to centuries ago...

Trust me, in this beloved city

I met you once, in times long gone,

you loved me once and I let you go...

I was foolish, still, I loved you so!

In the old city of canals and bridges

you and I loved each other furiously,

with a passion that burned like ice.

 

Living by proxy

Living by proxy

in your mind,

with just the promise

of my surrender.

Living by proxy

in my own skin,

with just the memory

of a few encounters.

Living by proxy

in a fleeting time

with just the solitude

left by your absence.

 

Writer

She wrote about him all the time,

she never mentioned his name again,

she wrote about her love and her lust,

she wrote not taking any needed breaks.

She just wrote about her sadness,

about his absence and her bereavement,

she wrote to extract all from memories,

to erase him from her suffering mind,

she wrote to welcome solitude at last.

Still, it was no use, her memory revived him,

her time with him became stronger,

he was somehow engraved in her mind,

while every cell in her yearning body,

doggedly craved their reunion with his,

under old bridges of stone over dark rivers,

on long trodden steps under forgotten portals..

 

Message

Lost in reveries, the hourglass turns,

I go on into days and I love you still,

I chose you one day and this stands.

Come, there´s fire at the hearth,

food will not grow cold,nor wine sour.

Meanwhile,in our secluded chamber

the lamps are already burning.

 

June, 19-2019-

 

Talisman

From the scattered broken crystals

of thwarted ,lost love affairs,

I have gathered drops of feeling

to join new beads on a silver cord,

to polish them with the oils of lust

and test them on the flames of desire.

I have made this strong necklace

for all to see me wearing it proudly,

it tells my story to those who can see

and wards off the sad despoilers

of the blissful passion ruling life.

 

30th June

 

Passionate request

And this is what a woman in love and lust

told her lover once:

Just take me,

use me hard,

use me fast.

Put me on all fours,

ride me from behind,

tell me I `m your slut.

Enjoy my moans,

multiply my cries.

give me your marks of passion,

I shall wear them with pride.

 

Broken crystals

Broken crystals

still reflect the sun,

dried petals

still scent old books,

closed rooms

still keep memories

of passions gone.

Old letters bound

by worn-out ribbons,

love stories thwarted,

names faded in time,

loves and desire,

melted and blended,

as once long ago

were souls and bodies.

 

July 21. 2019.

 

Fear not

Fear not,

I am the keeper

of our connection,

the priestess

of a lost temple,

the confidant

of river and bridge,

the writer

of many stories.

Fear not,

I `ve seen

roses fading

into white ashes

and passions melt

into nothingness.

Fear not,

there is freedom.

In case you feared

that was something

you had never lost.

 

July 21,2019

 

Who knows…

As days and nights

hurry to their ends,

as time moves swiftly

and memories fade,

roses bloom and dry,

and hours live and die...

my name may become

an echo in your past,

a memory of old,

a scent of a lost flower,

a murmur silenced.

Who knows,

there is no answer

only our secrets

buried in lost seconds.

 

July 2019

 

Ashes and roses.

Just ashes and rose petals,

the remains of some affair,

an old diary with torn pages,

some ribbons and medals...

Not even a fading scent

of soft skin glowing,

not even a whispering echo,

of the small death of climaxes.

Just ashes of burnt letters,

just petals of dried roses,

just two lives that met once

where hearts are broken.

 

Our time

When all has faded

into darkness,

all you have left

is a faint memory,

a love too strong

to go through,

a bond too fierce

not to break it.

Time and the river

portals in the night,

your dim shadow

haunting the streets

where you and I

used to walk and live.

 

Even if

Even if I had known,

betrayal lurked in the dark

even if I had foreseen

the traps in our Eden,

even if I had felt

the embrace of coldness

waiting among flowers...

even then, I would have

defied time and odds

for the fleeting joy

of your smile and presence.

 

Just that

Just shards of glittering colours,

just notes of a lost symphony,

just whiffs of spilled perfume,

just images from vintage movies,

the trimmings of love and passion

still lingering in the immense void

shaped by your cold absence.

 

No such thing

There was no absence

like the one shaped

by your silence.

There was no sadness

like the one shaped

by your absence.

There was no echo

like the one of my voice

calling you in dreams

while seconds ebbed

slowly and steadily

to just pale away

melting into memory.

 

Lover´s kiss

In a hidden place,

under the snow,

as white as lace,

as bright as stars

she waits for his kiss,

waits in the dark.

It is cold in her vault,

cold and also dark,

she sleeps undisturbed

he will come back.

To mortals she´s dead,

to them she is no more,

to him she is the world,

could not love her more.

In the darkest of nights,

under a sky of snow,

his stealthy steps take him

to her lonely,cold vault.

Defying death and gods

he looks for his beloved

to bring her back to life,

with just one kiss of his

she opens her eyes,

she will share his fate

whatever this may be,

they will roam the nights

and escape daylight.

Their love is their

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