I search for your name
In every app
In every event
In songs of rap
In every face
In every scent
I realized
It’s always there, I had no clue
Hanging from the corner of my lips
It’s not the name I’m searching for
But you.

I have nothing to write
Or maybe I have too much to write
I can hear the letters pummeling my finger tips
But the ink of my heart is indeed dry

I told him:
Making me happy is not easy
Since my happiness hides
Between the smallest details
In the tones of my favorite song from the next car window
Under the buttons of my sky-blue dress
In how berries taste after 18 hours of work
In strangers smiles and between the lines of my beloved ones letters
Under the golden rays and on the iced cotton *****
In things that can’t be sold or purchased, but made and felt.