Pieces Of You In A Pair Of Dreams (chapter two)
'So, I've decided to write in this language, instead of my own,
not to madden you, but to make it less personal.
It was silly of me to think that in your eyes I'm more than the hero that killed your butterflies.
I can't even write.
Look at my poems.
They're ridiculously ugly, just like me.'
That night,
I saw the giant white moon reflected on your lips,
and I kissed It.
It tasted more like you, than like her.
It had your parfume too,
and the whole world was jelous,
on me and on you, for we were happy
like Romeo and Juliet, like Adam and Eve, like Tristan and Isolde, and like Dante and his Beatrice,
one meant for the other.
Wearing the black dress of night
you were like the queen of the giants,
a flower that huged the sun without the fear that has you now.
And now, well is different,
but I still write of your stories from the land of my dreams.
And as like before, when I write
I'm not brave, I'm just scared of calling you.
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
Added by Poetry Lover
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