these nights, the air is in a drunken stupor,
borrowing spirit from our wine, daring...
If not about the ruins
that linger at the surface...
Her body felt heavy pressing on the cold floor,
for the moon forgot to shine his light...
You were holding hands with fear,
like she was a lover...
Honeyed words pour out in a continuous
stream onto your collar bones, the horizon...
You shall never see yourself between the lines,
or your silhouette against my poetry...
This city is a sad play,
with the most bone-chilling...
This morning, I listened to smooth jazz
in your honor, urging the saxophone...
Primroses,
eternal, they are...
I fall asleep next to you,
a shadow from another...
i was not taught to be gentle;
the whirling winds outside...
I was given a second chance
to think which I didn’t need...