Pining chokes me with her own two hands
as I fall to the wayside on her command.
I’ll lay apart on the edge, instead
of perusing quotations prowling through my head.

While fickle sentiments are prone to vex
I’ll shift the blame from left to right
to left again, while vermilion skies
change its hues at the speed of life.

Blows of ambivalence: it all seems hazy.
Ennui settles between the days and
contemplation, wishful thinking
dashed to pieces in different places.

It is necessary to read between these lines
where rhetoric reigns over a void of lies.
In absence of lucidity, please choose by heart
instead of distance, years and petty scars.

In mask and panic, we’re prone to error
as we become more guarded against the night.
Though incertitude may drive us mad,
love still triumphs over apprehension…in actual fact.