How fortunate we were
since the strange fate
that prone is to drive to the roses' park
whispered to us.
Dark was the night,
but my diaphanous satellite you were.
And, albeit I know even Moon
takes breaks to stop shining,
I also know that she always stays,
that, when looking up,
I will be able to behold her perpetually .
'Tis the same by your side,
for you are the ether
that surrounds my transited heart
whose arteries cannot
but adhere to the chimera
of an idyllic love,
of an eternal candle,
of your ethereal fingers injected
with softness and simplicity.
Would that I could turn it
into everlasting.
Would that the lilies' perfume
never stopped flooding us.
And I could tell you are as attractive
as death;
but you make the mistake
of giving me life.
When the stars sleep,
perhaps there I decide to depart.
Stars; however,
they never sleep,
do they, my man?
YOU ARE READING
Blue Genes
Poetry"You'd better believe I cried and said I was still finding myself so as to hide the fact that what I found was not what I expected". First poetry collection. ©
