Letter a una mujer à l’envers (lost in chile)

Chile is chilling you girl and so you miss Montreal? The streets are so sexy these days, it's like the city is in a long black dress. The nights are cool and smokin’ and jazz is flirting with a 23 year old dawn in which I’m losing myself like a ripe cherry. The nights here are full and silky like your hips and my lips, they have no end, in fact I wonder if I have seen the light of day in the last 2 weeks. Maybe the sun is in love too, smokin’ in bed with some voluptuous Venus. Did I say in love too? oh boy oh man, you never know where singing a blues can lead you when the city is slippery and summer is coming on to you like a laid back cigarette, holding everything in ‘til you can’t bear it and you try to lose your skin in some sort of wanting road between the moon and your desire for two silent hands that know exactly where to begin. I feel as liquid as lust, a man in my right eye that burns my pupil like black wine, intoxicated, yes, indeed, I haven’t seen the sun in years, did I tell you that, yes I did, and words dance around my vertigo like a midnight wind around the moon. I have got a man as silent as a black and white movie. Long lost revolutions on the tip of our tongues, this god damn good kisser makes my dreams languish as if I was a blues in C minor. My fingers and nails sink into his absence like a carnal poem. Montreal is dying, woman, here it’s the end of the world and I am tasting every second of it. Did I tell you that I miss you and your long movements that echo like a desert in Spain? Sing a song for me, E, I will make the city as light as a dying smoke fly towards your melancholy.
Will keep you up to date with my syncopated spleen.
Love you mujer
Marie