Love is never love when it is not you and with you
nor will it ever be learned or known by myself.
Nothing is all but just crumbled sighs in blue
and some secrets to stay forever in the shelf.
Massive are the pains, minute are the joys
and waiting will just be a boredom for a waste.
Jealousy is not a storm, bliss is never a choice
Oh and foul mouths are the only kisses for a taste.
Words will be neither sweet, nor bittersweet
if they are not from your lips or from your stare.
Oh Time will melt me as fast as the lights fleet
And will blow a thousand of years to my hair.
But above all, if it’s not you, then think of it as a sin
and I am just a ghost within a blood behind a skin.

You know I’m strong.
Even if you can’t do this, I’ll be strong.
The ocean is still an ocean,
                  the sky is still a sky
But an ocean without its horizon
a sky full of dark clouds.

My world is still here though.
There is still the dark mist that hides the sky,
and the huge grey cliffs which bury all the directions,
and the sun, the moon and the stars.

There is still the stillness in the ravens’ crow.
The heavy waves still roll
            and drown my white naked feet unto the shore.
And I know I still exist. I still walk and breathe.
Partly breathe, but it doesn’t matter.
For I still can and that’s what should be.
Even if you’re like this for the next decades,
for you I will always be strong.

If you say you’ll die if you start loving me,
then don’t.
For I won’t die if you don’t
but I will if you die.
The world is still here
and I don’t really care if it won’t turn.
But please, be still. Stay as far as you’re near.
Let those eyes be as empty as they are.
Dark, distant, a glance of nothingness, I don’t care.
We are both blinds anyway.
And I am always kind.
Even when I know
you are not behind your skin when I touch you,
             I won’t complain. I can’t feel anything either.
As long as you stay with me like this forever,
in this forever where there’s no night or day,
you know I’ll be strong.

Even if you’re just a ghost, unfeeling, soundless,
staring straight at the grey, hushed waters,
I won’t let myself know you are. I can feign.
For even if you’re like this beside me,
even when your heart had crossed this isle
and left me for another,
even when your chest is only filled with air,
just the ocean’s air,
as long as your body, your face,
your unsmiling face is here,
you are mine. Mine.

And I will stay like this with you
even during the soft perils of a morning’s light hail
or drown with you when the abyss of the ocean
consumes this little heaven of mine.
For you know, I am strong and I can always be.

Even if I know that you being here is a lie,
and that my world is half-living and I am half-alive,
as long as I can still sleep on your silent *****,
and I can still lean on your cold arms,
you will always be adorned, and worshipped.

And I will lie on your lap as I stare at the white sky,
watch and taste your dry mouth from the splashes
of the rushing waves,
then feel the thin silhouette of your face,
your hands, your feet, your chest, your hair,
your soul from all the shadows around me.
Oh dear! I can just do anything and everything for you!
Believe me, I can do all these! I really can!
For you know I am strong. I really am.
These feelings are immortal
and I have already immortalized you,
             here, in this isle,
                in my little-found heaven,
where I am always strong.

You.
You love me with your lips stitched shut.
You love the way I listen to you
whenever you teach me silence,
when you put your sweet sighs
across my mouth
and cradle my body into a dark corner
where I can breathe you in from afar.
That love which speaks through the eyes
tilted towards an inch away from mine.
While the rest of the world
can easily put those words into words,
you stay calm and modest
amidst your unspoken flames of emotions,
those which smoke away from  a smile
or from a glance which carouses
in that place within me
where  the other lovers can never visit.

You who don’t speak but listen.

I.
I love you with my ears only for the unheard.
I love that kind of love you rarely confess
through the smallest actions
done by your greatest strength
and even those cruel ones
within your depths I may never know
and you may never let me.
But if in case, you would let me and I would,
let me bury it down as a tiny seed
which will rise from the dirt
as a lovely white rose.
For even if you don’t speak,
I will always hear you
through the hushes of the cold wind
that blows and warms the fringes of my hair.
I will listen to you the way the other lovers
will never do.

I who don’t speak but listen.

But if this love must vanish in total darkness
and be drowned in all the noisy revolts
which sins had casted
or the world had turned the tables
and all our memories had to lie,
remember
that as long as there is you and I,
you will be the Earth beneath my feet
who holds all dear in my life
and I will be living and feeding in you
as our silence
grows and grows
into forever.

We who never speak but listen.

Love, you are unfamiliar to me
but I know
you are not a stranger.

I know I’ve already met you somewhere,
perhaps when I was still a homeless wind
in the past life.

That one February morning
when I patted your cheeks
or you caught me into your lungs
and released me again.
I know, I can feel it, I was once a part of you.

And I just know it when once you laughed,
there was a heavenly crisp
of violins and piano playing.
It made me float with a gentle delight,
all the clocks slowed down,
all the colors went vibrant and bright.

I saw how the world revolved around you,
and the sun bowed down its heat and boasted its light
how the grasses in the green field
followed the scent of your hands,
swaying with the cool summer waltz.

I watched as your breaths blew the dandelions,
then your silence sang with the voice of the brook.
And when you smiled, all the colours of the roses
started to bloom.

But do you know what I like the most, my Love?
It’s your existence alone that makes the stars fall
now and again,
when you have to be somewhere far from me
and that I have to endure
the hours of wishing to see you again.
A breath-taking show of lights at night
encouraging me to be vigilant
teaching me the art of patience.

So, now, I know, you taught me
how to feel that kind of love
when an innocent child worships
the beauty of a tiny butterfly.

a love that knows no time or space.
a love that is purely felt.

This is the love
I feel for you.

Please take care, my immortal lover
On this land where we stand, sadness will shower
Time will have you for a while, your life will start today
On Earth, be glad because to forget you, I will never

Please take care, my three-year-old boy
And always listen to the words of your mother
Avoid the high steeps, the deepest of the rivers
Make reading a habit, and never skip a dinner

Please take care, my four-year-old boy
Enjoy your childhood, play on the muddled water
Jump, roll, hop, ‘til you wear out and get enough
make a dozen of friends, have a plenty of laughter

Please take care, my five-year-old boy
Get a plenty of sleep after every modest prayer
But don’t get tall so soon for I want to catch up
I have no legs yet, nor have I seen my mother

Please take care, my six-year-old boy
Lives on our Maker’s hands are better and greater
Have faith: Time is not a factor in dreams or in love
Our Maker always plans where the stars will gather

Please take care, my seven-year-old boy
Notice some girls but reserve your heart for later
Today, Heaven is still doing the tip of my finger
Hoping tomorrow, I’ll be born to be yours forever

Please take care, my grown-up beloved
Today, I’m sad for it seems we no more remember
But from your glance, I know a story just started
Finally you’ve found me, your wife, your *lover

tell me when to stop
looking at you from behind
waiting for you to find me there
watching you as you silently
go to your usual cradle of solitude
breathing in the bliss
of silence in one corner

tell me when to stop
adoring such quiet scene
the hopeful scheme that
I am the one you’re seeing
when you’re staring at nowhere
or when you’re feeling my spirit
from the banisters of the stairs

tell me when to stop
those bittersweet sighs
the greed of being with you
when you’re not even there
that chest-hammering pain I feel
that deprives me of air
whenever you’re away
whenever you forget about me
or whenever you dream
of somebody else

tell me when to stop
assuming that you think of me too
when I think of you
for this is just too hard to bear
you are someone I can never have
so if you must say that one word
look at me and be gentle
then graciously break my heart

I shall stop
at once.

but if you must tell otherwise
then I shall stop asking this again
and I will never get tired
of thinking and sighing
of waiting and dreaming
and of stealing
some glances from you
*forever