See those trees
and the branches
they hold up high?

One day,
your arms will allow you to reach them.

But it will be too late
and you will have
no reason why.

at the end
of every empty day

she would shed a tear
and with her mouth say

words that none would hear

The day you came into my life
I forgot the tongue hours spoke.

I could not remember
the words in the cardboard.

What was time before you,
before us?

Still fragile as the doubts
hanging in your curly hair,
I walk forward.

I walk through my memories.

I used to carry you everywhere
in my clumsy hands,
like a stamp collection.

As the ordinary days came along,
everything was different,
You were ever-present eternity.

Here now,
my crestfallen eyes long a chance
to have that shared kiss
one more time.

I still keep you warm,
up my fireplace,
the dust never bothered me,

but I feel
I lost myself
as a human.

I am semi-ruined
as a lonely half ought to be.

What comforts me is that
our future is written on the stones.

We are not broken,
not yet.

My first kiss
was not my first love.

I've never felt the lips
of my first love.

Once, in the car,
she fell asleep in my shoulders,
and I got to hold her hand at a play.
I was Joseph and she was Mary,
our kid saved the world that day.

I met her when I was 13 years old,
at the local church.
and I used to call her
by her second name.

It wasn't love at first sight.

You know when they say
"falling in love"?

Well, this love
never hit the ground.

She says I'm delusional of her.

But what is love if not
being delusional of someone
and still loving exactly what
they are,
their very core.

More than ten years have passed.

I can still hear
the blood pump my heart,

but I never loved like this again.

I don't know if I still love her,
but my heart is still
infected with
every single second
we spent together.

I am saving
my last kiss for her.

I live
in a certain way
to undress me
completely
until
there isn't
anything special
about me

except for
myself.

This broken engineering
my chest holds,
ticks when she comes
and I know it's her,
I can sense her.

Sometimes
a fallen angel
with a broken wing of sorrows,

Or a demon
possessing my bones
with rage and ****** eyes.

Hell or heaven,
always.

The devil and
Christ himself
gazing at my sins,
quietly.

That is
how it feels.

She can carry my dry lips
into the finest wine.

Drag me to a desert
bequeathing my flesh
to be judge by a merciless full sun.

She wounds me
to cure me,
I yield.

She fills me
to the bottom
just to be completely poured out
in the frightening whiteness
that haunts my dreams.

Leaving me
restless voids.

The tears
rain hides.

A scar
in my words.

A child's smile
in the corner
of my mouth.

Path,
for the calm walks
my feet longs.

She is what will
ultimately destroy me,
she is my salvation.

She is my death
and my ressurection.

hundreds of years ago
someone travelled
to somewhere
loved somebody
so deeply,
that when they got up
to their feet
they had a new someone
to hold tight.

(this story echoed
throughout every
corner of the earth)

now the skies
have known the ages
and I stand here,
still unanswered:

Who
am
I?

I must conserve
this cry within me,
for it is my soul.

It will hum me a song
leading me to my grave.

Those will be peaceful days,
I have no other choice.

Our love
in a glass of wine,

at the end of the night,
what matters:

Will you be my valentine?