I'm my mother's reflection,
we have similar face,
similar nose,
almost identical profile,
and my eyes are like hers
but in a paler shade.

I'm my mother's reflection,
but just on the surface.
How can I argue when she denies
the similarities between us?
Her soul is full of life,
love comes easy for her
and the faith she never lost.

I'm my mother's reflection,
if she had died in her youth.
My soul is vacant,
empty.
When it comes to love
I hesitate, a weakness
instead of strength.
And my faith was lost
long before I knew the
meaning of the word,
only rage I have known.

He fell for me,
even when my days are quiet,
even if my emotions
remain hidden.

He loves me,
despite my emptiness
and solitude,
the way I don't communicate
because I'm not used to being heard.

He shows me his love,
in the same way painters
and musicians do,
intimately.

He chose me,
even if he wanted someone
who love as loudly as he does,
he found peace in me instead
something he wasn't familiar with,
just as I wasn't familiar with the idea of being loved.

I stay awake past midnight,
as if the moon and I had a date
not knowing who
will get to rest first,
sometimes I win,
sometimes I dream,
sometimes the sun rises
and the moon will leave me defeated.

I had a dream,
where I was late
and I couldn't find my way.
I asked for directions
but no one spoke my language,
the only thing I understood
was that I was late.

Then I woke up,
and my chest ached
because even in my sleep
I'm running out of time
and still I haven't found out
a place to be.