My cherished woman, Without a face, Dwells in my books, And diaries, Without a stance; In my coffee cup, She swims And passes in my mirror, Without a trace; She wanders About In my veins, sings in my heart, Recreates in my brain, Without a trance, When she leaves; I follow vibrations Of her presence, Fading in the street’s noise, And fashionable curiosity, Love of the city, In every place, Carrying a shy red rose, My heart, Which she knows, She often plants passion There, In every space, That she irrigates, With warm stream, In patience, As it grows, And only sighs, As she goes With innocent pace.
True love is something so elusive. True love between two people is the most precious of gifts, Falling in love is not just an expression. Love is a powerful force that cannot be dissuaded. Love requires a lot of faith.
Am I Alive, or am I dead? Is this all just a dream inside my head? I feel like I’m losing my grip. Quick say something, anything before I slip. Nightmares slowly creeping. Has he finally come to do the
The very essence of love is uncertain, A relentless thumping of the heart. I must speak to you by such means as they are within my reach. He pierces my soul driving me into madness. I am half agony, half
The moon awaits eagerly in the same pedestal it ignited my passion. What lips, my lips have kissed, are long forgotten. The memories easily quickened as a few puddles along the way I voluntarily stepped in. What arms have lain