Slightly and then all at once,
every time I give this love a chance
I wake up in relief but sorrowed
by the moment we have borrowed.

From movies, from stories and books
pretending to be infatuated by looks,
only to be left with doubt and nothing.
All I have is nothing and it is too much.

To gently say goodby or wave and smile,
rekindling, every once in a while,
whatever there was to be felt,
knowing now it was not here to stay.

New, you, known or somewhere in
between. If love has grown or suddenly is seen.

I crave your presence
as if it was the only thing
keeping me alive.

Keep me alive and well
I need you to survive, your smell
and lovely presence
is my food and shelter.

I crave you as my morning bed
I love the way you said
good night, I love the way
you sleep so close
just one door to the right.

I adore you as if I were winnie
and you were my jar. The honey
would be flowing, leaving, but
you would never be far.

Once the smoke hits the lungs and
you picture it hand in hand
with the sight of her adorable gaze,
you know you'll be in trance for days.

Merely laughter, merely the exchange
of looks and guesses feels strange
enough to question if this is what you
live for, what you were made to do.

Love her, fiercely but quietly, quite
lovely, fairly touched and very bright,
make her know she is worth the fight.

Was it ever more than certain, like this,
the things you hated, the flaws created,
will turn into the greatest that you'll miss.

the stairs were slightly changing
and I can not explain
the capacities, ranging
from heavenly to worth the pain

the walls were bending
and I have no clue
of the message she is sending
or those I send to you.

the door is open yet not
wide enough, slipping through
or away, both possible
and both I wished to stay.

Phonological loops,
again, again, again,
promises about change.

No semantic processing,
just a shallow layer of gold
topped with dust.

It's because I'm stuck for what seems like an eternity
in this 'awake at night fraternity'
where I do everything and loneliness is king
of all the dancing parts where one is forced to sing.

One can be all there is,
the first of all the ones that come,
the one all this
time you knew was right.

One can be too much to handle
or not enough if you are greedy,
and not for you if you are needy.
With the power out, one candle
may not be enough to light the house.

But one little shining star
along the mass of grey, or green in war
with black, can be enough to brighten up
the park at night. One light to make the road
less scary.