It could have been anyone, but it was somebody. A dark night, a street; he emerged as witchcraft.

Everything I needed, but I didn't know. Mysterious and impetuous, without saying a word, he took me as his own.

The naked sword blossomed my flower.

Fear and desire. Guilt and impulse. Being possessed in secret.

Intense.

Immense.

Deep.

Hot, sharp and humid.

Only I moaned, only I suffered and laughed. Scared and in love. Flooded me with your seed. It disappeared like a spell.

Without a word he left me fascinated and pregnant, on that street on a dark night.