I Feel You, My Love
I feel you, my love!
I feel the beating of your heart quicken
when you choose to visit my profile—
with care and longing,
yet also fear—
afraid to interact with my posts,
by accident… or out of impatience.
I feel the sadness that overcomes you
when you hear the sigh of my words.
I feel the stirrings in your chest.
You burn with jealousy
when you spot a trace of flirtation in the comments…
I feel the joy that takes over you
when you read my witty remarks—
they seem as if they’re meant for you.
I feel your interest in every word I write,
in every comment I receive,
in every greeting I send.
I even feel your fingers touching your phone,
begging your pride
to let you write me a message.
You ask yourself:
How should I start the conversation?
What excuse can I use
to enter her world again?
—but without lowering your pride.
Honestly… I still feel you…
but you never felt the door to my heart,
whose locks have rusted
in the sea of your abandonment and rejection…
I feel you…
oh, if only
you had felt me too!
Does She Love You Like I Did?
Who is she,
your new lover?
Introduce me to that beauty…!
What’s she like?
She must be attractive…
What’s the color of this fairy—
blonde, olive-skinned,
or a dangerous brunette?
Does she love you like I did?
Does longing burn her like it did me?
Does she sigh for you?
Is she afraid of me?
Does she wrap herself around you
in different ways…?
Has she stolen your heart,
becoming the first—
and the last?
Bless your heart
for that sad butterfly,
who sips from your hive each night.
She conquered your mind with just one spin,
but you lost
a lover like me—
authentic.
Every Morning…
Every morning,
like a good housewife,
I tidy up my heart.
I wipe off the dust and weariness,
open its windows,
and let it breathe.
Every morning,
like a noisy child,
I shatter the glass of my heart
with a wild strike
from a distant memory.
Every morning,
like a carefree woman,
I listen to music
and feed my heart with joy.
Every morning,
I am like all the fools
who want to return—
but never do.
Every morning,
I am many things.
I am more than light itself—
and no one can reach me.
