Why
when we grow fangs...

Your smile,
the white queue of musical tone...

I was really burning for your caressing hands
until I learned you were just a semblance I was...

Thus,
whispered an hourglass in my ears...

Life is somewhere between the length of hyenas...
and the sweet tweet of nightingales...

"You have to burn in order to shine"
_ this was a burning moth susurrating...

They pet wolves like lambs
out of cowardice, and then...

There are ends to the distances
There are ends to all the roads...

Mirrors shy away when I look at me
I think in me one could never...

There is a desert between our lips
that could not be watered...

O blooms
my eyes could hardly hold on to you now...

To explore the possibilities of words
is not the poet’s due...