where every poem starts and every ends, where we are stunned, where we are thirsty and the thirst is never quenched, where there is something that breaks and i can't bring back although it burns me to dust, love was not our miracle but the dying was, the flames never quenched like the blues of the stars little rivers, don't bring me fire to bury me in flame, bring me oceans of black ink to colour the night, bring me your love.