When impossible takes a human form …

Dear walking heaven; the meaning of poetry and the reason of love wars, the innocence in your face is tempting for corruption. I surrender, I give up, I give in, I resist … This dreamy soul of yours which is stained with earthy colours is my forbidden desire, I want to drink it like fine wine, if this was possible. The way you walk like a child in the gardens of beauty makes me want to chase you, catch you and fill my lungs with your golden laughter. The way you glow makes me wonder … Do you drink sunshine in cups for breakfast or are you the angel of love? Why do the sunflowers follow you? Why do I feel that you are my good mornings, my warm afternoons, my fading evenings and gloomy nights?

Those lips of yours … When you talk, they slither softly and are deadly enough to kill. Are they poisonous berries? I would dare to try. Two goddesses playing around a lake and I would jump into its depth even though I can’t swim, I’d rather drown than be rescued. Gathered roses of which I want to extract the finest perfume that could give eternal youth. Or is it a nectar of delicious fruits that will run through the veins of the dead and give life to their cold hearts?

I don’t mind dying in your arms; where paradise lays or on the sounds of your laughs; the meaning of true happiness; the high tasteful music; the light that will conquer any evil. Your pure soul is the meaning of love,art,adventure and selflessness. An art piece that is so fine that life brags with to let me know that you’re not mine to have, I don’t deserve you but I will settle for pleasuring my eyes with seeing you from a distance.

How can something be so beautiful and torturous? Like a rose with thorns indeed, a rose swaying in the breeze playfully, tempting to be picked and owned. Breathtaking and captivating, a mix of pain and pleasure, worthless words to describe such a magical creature who is higher than to be made out of clay.

When life loves life

The sun woke him up kissing his soft lips as she embraced him with warmth to say I love you, his colourful sheets tied his young body forbidding him to leave, the pigeons made love to him through his window with their beaks, untying himself he walked up to the pigeons and they flew lightly, the sea stared at the depth of his eyes with admiration.

He decided to greet the morning with a smile that made the crumbled bread on the Rambla street goes toast. He lived a day with the roses trying to catch his scent, with the country laying paths of glory for him to walk on, with the dancing birds around his head and the sky above him changed her colours when the sun buried herself in red.

The moon then came jealous playing the Moonlight Sonata on his flawless skin to keep him up until his seductive dreams pulled him in saying – “My turn” in thirst for life.

A moment have made all the difference

Those Trees took off their orange gowns to put on silky green. Those roses; the sleeping beauties, have worn their sensational perfume and blushed their velvety cheeks. The moon danced the pavane on my river living a love fantasy.

The river broke waves to greet him in a beautiful rhythm creating music along with the rose-breasted grosbeaks which refused to sleep. When he arrived, stars threw their selves beneath his feet for they are unworthy to compete with his eternal glow.

His light defeated the darkness of the night and his vivacious laugh poured on nature to comfort her mourning soul. He blew kisses in the air and they flew like butterflies in a dream and the inspiration roses have tried to collect them like pieces of fine poetry.

All that nature needed from those deep honey wells of heaven is a glad gaze, a gaze that would make her feel loved enough to grow beautifully till she dries of longing for a second date.