Give my soul to Heaven to keep it,while I am becoming nothing but pleasurein your skilful hands of a sculptor.

I will packand turn my back on you,taking my chances with mediocre poetryto immortalise faded coloursof our tattered love.I will pack,coating my heart with a thick layer of ice.I will pack my tears and all I have lost,my lost innocence, my warmth,hard earned patience and the dreams of our children in our hands.Stay well, my only one.No words are left to tell...

It is more difficult for you to pretend having feelings when you don’t,than it is to me to pretend I don’t have any when I do.That is why I’d rather sleep.Not having to think.Just to feel.In the sea of illusions,every touch of yoursbelongs to me.

Nowhere to be touchedor explored,not here and not in distance.It’s just a tingle that overflows my brightest dreams.Am I wise or simple-minded to believethat non–existent evidenceis not an evidence of non–existence?

Our prize was solitude,question after question,I have no answers to…I ponder why’s your love,just like the ocean wind,so easily changed its direction?

Only these four eyes can see the reflection of us,for the soul never lies confronted with its truth.Like the forest that's hiding the secrets in thick canopies,but the string of light always makes its way through.

I have not known who I wereuntil you introduced me to my heart.

The evaporated dreamthat I would be adoredbecame my identity as the thorn is to rose.

There are no wordsthat could describehow loving of beloved feels.Nor the joy of openingarms into a hug.