Your prejudiced love,
I keep it in the treasure box;
Your unsung kisses,
I wear it around my neck.

Free the enchanted kiss
And the mind climbs mountains—
Be sought, magnificent touch,
And the soul breathes triumph!

who are you but a dripping honey
from the witch’s fingertip
who are you but a moss on fallen logs,
creeping into magnificent spoilage
who are you but that one last bubble,
escaping from drowned pale lips
who are you but the peaceful smell
of morning after a night’s storm
who are you but the devoid ink
from the tip of a writer’s pen.

The only thing between our love is us
But with this love we levitate;
Can’t just hang it by a rope
Although we’re just a grain of dessert sand.

The night around me breathes you,
Choking my throat with lonely thoughts;
The cityscape has the sparks of your eyes,
Blinding me with longing memories.

I wish the wind drags your caress here
So I might paint my whole body with it,
So it might lock me in its deadly jaws,
So you might kiss my wayward crown.

But you float like a golden feather
And my arm can only reach too far—
I howl into the good night
Though I know I’m a twilight late.

Red lips as stark as the scent of spring,
You’ve the soul of the sun wrapped around you,
Bathing suffocating gold to whatever nears—
Maria, you slay the world with your touch.

Religious storms pray for your guidance,
Furious waves drench the lighthouse to darkness,
The twang of twilight left unheard of—
Maria, you slay the world with your touch

You melt the deceiving kiss of winter,
Carried the everlasting echoes of wailing bells;
You have laid death on your white wool—
Maria, you slay the world with your touch.

Smile as harsh as the melody of a bird’s song,
Stare as gentle as the touch of rose’s thorns;
Breathless discord depletes to effeminate thoughts—
Maria, you slay me with your touch!

I live through your breath;
Death is my only carriage;
Heavens and hells, we travel
and dare seek the freedom of sin.

I could not fathom the face of death
Nor the face of life itself,
For what lies between
Is the unmarked grave of the world.