I can write a song or a lullaby
as the words keep juggling,
between my mind and lips.
I can read a book,
soaked in poignant sentiments.
Dance to the tunes
Of a song playing in my head.
I can play Juliet,
or just Ingrid.
Whatever you wish me to be.
I can view myself
In your wet lips.
Melting in your sturdy arms,
Dying the night,
and rising again
much like phoenix.
I can do all that and more,
as long as I have wine.
As long as I know
I am in a different universe.