AnnyGiralldo

Bellísimo ese coñito reina

My name is Annygiraldo.

I'm a woman who really enjoys music, meeting new places where I can feel unique, meeting people is interesting, knowing that their fantasies and fetishes make this conversation even better than I expected..

I like to enjoy a romantic dinner outdoors with a man who makes me feel like a queen, to be on a beach where the sand covers my body while my man caresses me. I'm a passionate woman.

I like to feel sexy, but smiling makes me feel perfectly beautiful. I'm the kind of woman who likes to feel protected I like to feel loved like a goddess, I'm a valuable woman I like to give happiness, I'm a straight person with an open smile to brighten your life.

When I look in the mirror, I'm proud of who I am and who I am. I'm turning to myself. Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself.

In every kiss, passion is awakened, in every caress, temptation is kindled. My hands explore your sculptural figure, while your caresses fill the sensual air.

I want you to see the poems that I like the most, this is a space so that I can share with you what I want to be most interested in and we're going to do it in the sections and this will be about poems ​

I like it when you're silent because you're as if absent, and you hear me from afar, and my voice doesn't touch you.. It seems like your eyes have flown away and it seems as if a kiss would close your mouth. As all things are filled with my soul You emerge from things, full of my soul. Dream butterfly, you look like my soul, and you look like the word melancholy. I like you when you're silent and distant. And you're like complaining, a lulling butterfly. And you hear me from afar, and my voice does not reach you: Allow me to hush myself with your silence. Let me also speak to you with your silence clear as a lamp, simple as a ring. You are like the night, quiet and constellation. Your silence is from the stars, so far and simple. I like you when you're silent because you're as if absent. Distant and painful as if you had died. A word then, a smile is enough. And I'm glad, glad it's not true.

Elegy, by Miguel Hernández (In Orihuela, his and my town, Ramón Sijé has killed me like lightning, with whom he loved so much.) I want to be the gardener crying of the land you occupy and manure, soul mate, so early. Feeding rains, snails and organs my pain without instrument, to the discouraged poppies I will give your heart for food. So much pain pools in my side, 'cause it hurts, even my breath hurts.. A hard slap, a cold blow, an invisible and murderous axe blow, a brutal push has knocked you down.. There is no extension greater than my wound, I cry my misfortune and its sets and I feel your death more than my life.. I walk on the stubble of the dead, and without warmth from anyone and without comfort I go from my heart to my affairs. Early death took flight, early morning rose early, early you're rolling on the ground. I do not forgive death in love, I do not forgive the inattentive life, I do not forgive the earth or anything. In my hands I raise a storm of stones, lightning and strident axes thirsty for catastrophes and hungry. I want to dig the ground with my teeth, I want to separate the earth part by part to dry and hot bites.

I want to mine the earth till I find you and kiss your noble skull and ungag you and return to you. You will return to my garden and my fig tree: by the high scaffolding of flowers your beehive soul will bird of angelic waxes and work. You will return to the lullaby of the bars of the loving farmers. You will brighten the shadow of my eyebrows, and your blood will go to each side disputing your girlfriend and the bees.. Your heart, already worn velvet, calls to a field of sparkling almonds my greedy lover's voice. To the winged souls of the roses I require you from the cream almond tree, that we have to talk about many things, soul mate, mate.

Gazelle of the Terrible Presence, by Federico García Lorca I want the water to run out of channels. I want the wind to remain without valleys. I want the night to be left without eyes and my heart without the flower of gold. Let the oxen speak with the great leaves and that the worm dies of shadow. Let the teeth of the skull shine and the yellows flood the silk. I can see the mourning of the wounded night fighting coiled with the noon. I resist a sunset of green poison and the broken arches where time suffers. But don't show me your clean naked like a black cactus open in the reeds. Leave me in a longing for dark planets, but don't show me your fresh waist!