Beautiful as a dream,
lurking as a culprit,
pages turned to dust
in a great little story line,
he is the next chapter
of violent delight.

Vermillion face,
sugarcoated as veil
promises counts on eyelashes.
Wishes on lucky stars,
he is the thousand words
of a lullaby I wrote,
a song in his dream
whispering in dark.

He is not a daydream
he is not a catastrophe,
falling in love with magic
saves us from broken heart;
he's an another stranger
who can fill my strangeness.

He is the space with clusters of star
and the other part is empty side,
the ocean with endless depth,
for eons it got deeper and deeper
until our same stars have reached its end.

Breathless muse, loose pages
were spattered with strange romance
tearing in fire, and turned to powder.