words
are a writer's brushstrokes.
and the library
is their museum.

-may colde

sometimes I still remember
                                 that night.
the night when everything seemed perfect.
        when I felt like the universe gathered us.
the night when the cold sea breeze was kissing
                                                             the stardust.
     when the Moon was calling her Sun
      and even the darkest streets were melted in          
                                                                ­            hope.
the night when we felt love like time:
                              endless and unstoppable.

-May Colde

everyone tries to
mimic the moon.
but honey,
open your eyes.
the stars are brighter
and alive.
and their light is endless
just like the human soul.

-May Colde

It's like a waterfall
                   coming from your chest.
it's like billions of colours
                   gave birth to a star.
it's like you created
                   a new Nature.
it's like a dive into
                   a pool of life.
and coming
with a diamond out of
                                        your soul.

And that, my darling, it's how it feels
to create.

-May Colde

the heat of the summer
fades facing the cold moon.
but I like it here
on our rooftop
held by your arms.
reality seems far away
when you're waiting
for the stars.

-May Colde