Tango del amor!!!

TANGO

«Loving to ride horses and loving the tango
are the same» she said, her
raven hair riding her long neck,
like a dark swan,

tango-ba.jpg

«because you long for two
to become One.»

(video-Roberto Herrera’s Show Tango Nuevo)

I wait, watching, watching the dancers,
my moves, my turns,
my surrender and poise
tied to my waiting
like silk ribbons
in bondage.

The couples are gliding in tango
stars in combustible silence,
orbiting scarlet lace,
raging softly through Italian silk,
each pair a galaxy with the
possibilities of heaven made
sweet and fierce
by movement indirect and final.

(video-cell block tango scene from the movie chicago)

Rounded beaded hip
brushing the curve in his thigh
making the figure ocho
within the circle of his arms.
A swallow brushing wings
against the flesh beneath the flesh.
The subtlety of movement is painful
in what it promises
through lowered lashes,
but refuses to bring
through stark
and direct gaze.

He slices like a knife
through the shadow of her ankle
catching her foot between his own, holding the heat of
unspoken poems,
a thief clutching his prize,
and as quickly as her pulse
rises trembling to her mouth,
he turns to me.

cya-tango-7.jpg

His gaze is raw.
His scent is animal.
Every womanly part of me is pulled to
his outstretched hand.
Desire is too direct.
Passion purposefully understated.
My comments are unspoken,
eloquent undergarments:
«Tanguero, feel the undercurrents of my feminine
sweep and pull at your groin.
Let your hips be the pendulum that
hint my motion forward
that stalk me backwards.
Hunt me. Be hungry for my blood.
Let nothing come between
to spoil our private feasting.

default_r3_c4.jpg

I ‘ll answer to you
keeping your yearning a secret,
being the mystery, the wave
that welcomes your raw wanting.
Come:
Split my thighs like the pages of the Koran
full of holiness and war.
Do me battle,
cradle me in a sarandeo.
Let my lips graze your neck to inhale you,
hombre, intencional.«

(Video-Al Pacino/Gabrielle Anwar- Scent of a Woman)

Instinctive prowling is our next step,
brushing the corners of perfect and
choreographed beauty, but choosing,
instead,
the wild territory
of what two of us can dance
as One.

©Copyright. By Christina Johnson, from the book, Love Language.

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  1. Αχ αχ αχ, πάτησες κάλο τώρα.
    Ο καλός μου δεν έρχεται να μάθουμε tango (μπουχουουουου) 😦

  2. Χμ χάνει τέτοια ευκαιρεία; Πες του ότι αν δεν έρθει μαζί σου θα αναγκαστείς να χορέψεις με τον δάσκαλο ;)…

  3. Μπααα, είμαι κι εγώ χαζοβιόλα που δεν πάω να μάθω και χωρίς εκείνον 😛

  4. @confused
    Είναι και αυτό μια λύση 😉 Αν και εγώ σπίτια δεν χαλάω οπότε επιμένω να τον πιέσεις να σε ακολουθήσει. Στον έρωτα καμιά φορά ο σκοπός αγιάαζει τα μέσα…




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