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Poem

Open sky,
sitting on a park bench with one arm curved behind a person;
teething smiles shyly undressing my emotional puristic like Adam re-unclothing in
Eden.

Whatsoever is losed of my ascetic,
may it free our eyes to tresspass into our hearts and breakthrough the binders.

Open sky,
like a shaded orange thingy,
serendipity might bring your meaning by a large dream of two days' worth of sleep
after I crept into your eyes and lost something I can't really tell of;

I think it was unshelved, a piece of my bestselling self; consequence: lost.
Obsequies: died for love, the form of death that kills the greed of my homesickness;
consequence: no return.

Open sky,
clear,
yet the sun will soon say goodbye.
Like good friends we watch his actual goodbying but not without the christening of
our love pudding:
sweet child in arm, the sweetest charm we ever cast...

Yours for all time,
burnt the bridge behind and it's a good thing I can't swim,
good thing, but if I could,
I'd swim in your own pull.

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