How cruel is a needle,
all because you can bleed.
How safe is the sea,
all because you dont swim.

How you love me so,
all because I can dream.

And if you happen to see me
Under the crescent ball of the night,
With my eyes heaving sleeplessness
But roused, nonetheless, for the idea of you-
Let the soothe of air with its kind intentions
Be the only pleasant interruption
Between the kiss of our yearning skins.

I have been growing winter inside me,
That with sharp ice, rock crystals
And the saddest pour of frost.
See how I am not that empty after all.

Souls do not weigh much.
Not at all-
that they can outdo the lightness of a feather
and even the barest of all wrecked hearts.
Souls- too delicate,
that they stray upon vibration of the thinnest air.
You see, I have a soul.
It will take me.
And I will let it.
And as for you,
who is a soul wrapped within a soul-
if the air takes you,
then I shall let you go.

I won’t turn off the lights for you.
Because that is what your eyelids
Are for.
Some darkness in this world
Are made from the layers we put
Before our sight
Whenever we close our eyes.

In the stillness of a photograph,
I found life, moving in light speed,
Shooting the very nerve that bears
Every bit of sense that there is in me.
It has always been
the pigments of your photograph,
That touches the sky before the sun,
The shore before the sea,
The pages before the words,
And my heart before me.