AnnyGiralldo

BIENVENIDO A MI HABITACION 

Soy Annygiraldo 

   Soy una mujer que realmente disfruta de la música, conocer nuevos lugares donde puedo sentirme único, conocer a la gente es interesante, saber que sus fantasías y fetiches hacen que esta conversación sea aún mejor de lo que esperaba.

me gusta disfrutar de una cena romántica al aire libre con un hombre que me haga sentir una Reina, estar en una playa donde la arena me cubre mi cuerpo mientras mi hombre me llena de caricias soy una mujer apasionada me gustan estar llena de amor pasión y sentirme deseada por mi hombre 

me gusta sentirme sexy, pero sonriendo me siento perfectamente guapa. soy el tipo de mujer que me gusta sentirme protegida me gusta sentirme amada como una Diosa, soy una mujer valiosa me gusta dar felicidad, soy una persona franca con una sonrisa abierta para alegrarte la vida.  

Cuando me miro al espejo estoy orgullosa de quien soy y en quien me. Estoy convirtiendo para mi la belleza comienza en el momento en el que se decide ser uno mismo 

En cada beso se despierta la pasión, en cada caricia se aviva la tentación. Mis manos exploran tu figura escultural, mientras tus caricias llenan el aire sensual. 

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 are going to do it in the sections and this will be about poems ​

I like it when you shut up, by Pablo Neruda I like you when you are silent because you are as if absent, and you hear me from afar, and my voice does not 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 are 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 constellated. Your silence is from the stars, so far and simple. I like you when you are silent because you are 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, Because it hurts, even my breath hurts. A hard slap, a cold blow, an invisible and murderous ax 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 until 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!