I’m your woman…lose me in whispers, in a caress,
teach me the steps towards me with and beside you,
wait for me on an edge of a sun ray from sky’s address
and tell me you’re afraid too…of yourself…of me…of the new.

I’m your poetry…sketch me as beautifully as you can
with dots, with commas, slowly, to make me feel the intrigue,
write me in many capital letters, speak me warmly as my man,
make me hear how your soul shouts me in echoes, not fatigue.

I am your perfume…smell me softly and gently as I cry,
pour on my forehead and on my lips profound kisses,
listen how you beat in my chest and make me fly,
and take care of your sadness on the nocturnal pieces.

I’m your air…breathe me as deeply as you can,
to adjust, to resonate as two sad violins from heaven’s band,
with the sip of pure love falling from your heart on the divan,
we will write our silent hush…just the two of us, hand in hand.

I’m your ardent desire…in well-hidden hugs on the shore,
wearing for a long time a pair of stolen angel wings,
wiping your cheeks from wrinkles that are sore,
denying the idea of being passengers pulling the strings.


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