I could use countless hours
to paint with words about my
melancholic, idyllic
cultminating and thrilling feelings
But if you let me
I could write
continuous books about
how the gods smiled
when they created you
About how you taught me
to swim between
your toes and your ribs
About how you
put the stars in the sky
and about how you're the sun
and I'm the moon
and that you created those stars
to spare me from solitude
when you were about to die
and I about to live





to J.P