WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HOW SCARED SHE IS. WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HOW SHE WATCHES THE WAY SHE WALKS, BECAUSE THE LAST TIME SHE FELL IN LOVE, SHE HIT THE GROUND. AND SHE WOULD OFFER HIM HER HEART BUT IT'S BEEN EATEN AT AND STORED IN A DOGGY BAG AROUND A CORNER WITHIN HER CHEST - AND SHE CANNOT HELP BUT ALWAYS FEEL LEFTOVER. WHAT IF I TOLD YOU THAT SHE'S SCARED OF FEELING.
BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FEEL HER BACK.

"De mi-ai face tu inima punte, sa te intampin mereu."*

here, distracted by seagulls
I have dreams interrupted by gravity
you are painting the moon in my hair
I would like to open my eyes
to say something
but I am already taken to you in all languages
between the lines only empty spaces
I still haven't figured it out
why you split the page in two
don't want to hear the dying time
you are painting my red red heart
naked
I want to kiss your fingers,
your tired shoulders
in solid mornings
the way you stepped/screamed/exploded inside
my skin your umbrella against the void
they cannot convince me of anything
the night cannot erase
the freedom of light
in Turner's eye

somewhere beyond the hip of night
I'm waiting for something by the sea
but what it is
it's a mystery carried by seagulls
so far away
that far away
from me