starry-eyed
And I've been choosing you to be one of my dreams,
but you metamorphosed in each of them, becoming
a watercolor painting me to be to you your rain, then,
in other to look like Asteraceae flowers and my soles
to be tattooed with the graphic symbols of your name
for you chose to be the ink and quill of my thoughts
decorating my soul with the smiles of love. — Yours.
Troubadour, the wind, meticulously, sculpted to me
the timbre of my voice, as wherever you'll be or go
to feel inside yourself my idiotic longing and love
cocooned in the sun and moon, in the air you breathe
composed with the typical music deepen in portraits
of everyday stories, the-invisible-one-starry-eyed
