In praise of Tits

In praise of Tits.

two Tits are Wet in the throes of the call.
They're soaking wet.
Wetted as the air
They’re arranging two pearls (Oysters) for the pleasure of meeting.
Freely occupying the breast of the dress.
In the afternoon.
They write a story about the fragrance of time.
From clay and water.
two Tits.;
no, it's on my lips now.
With a humming tune.
They teach the hips, thighs, and legs to dance.
With a novelistic waist.
Let's say Tits.:
Like two birds in the night light.
With The Moon Of Heaven
And tweets as two standing flowers.
In a blaze of light.
Tits, if they are together.
They are like two mighty rivers bursting out.
in the consciousness of the soul in me and him blood.
And they are explaining to the philosopher the ways of thinking.
break through
Tits that revere wine in satisfaction.
But if they have come to terms, they are reconciled at the peak of "Separation"."
Two antonyms agree in my native language against me
Sometimes like children's childhood
And sometimes not ...
As if the wind is playing passionately and wildly.