I wear my dress like a canvas of dreams woven from threads of the moon
I wear my dress like a canvas of dreams woven from threads of the moon,
as if my porcelain skin had never been touched by shadows,
as if you hadn't taken me to the back of a car, a temple of secrets,
as if you hadn't possessed me like an elixir flowing through a thirsty soul.
I wear my hair like a cascade of gold under the rays of a gentle sun,
as if you hadn't played the game of waves on the calm sea of my desires,
as if I had awakened from a dream with butterflies, beautiful and untouched by time.
I wear my lipstick like a princess's crown from a kingdom of forgotten tales,
as if you hadn't wiped it away with stormy kisses on a starless night,
as if you hadn't devoured my lips with the hunger of a thirsty stag,
like the little girl from fairy tales whispered by the wind through branches.
I wear my mask like a cloak of mist that hides a secret universe,
as if you hadn't shattered me into thousands of shards of broken dreams,
as if you hadn't left me bruised, a field after the silent battle,
as if you hadn't trampled over my pride with steps of iron.
I wear my mask like a butterfly wing floating through the morning ether,
as if my burdens were as light as a nightingale's song,
as if nothing weighed me down in this vast and mysterious world,
as if I loved you and you loved me too, a dance of stars in the starry sky.
And never in the way our demons clashed, a thunder in the night.
I wear my mask like a veil of mist full of secrets,
light, and lying with every step, like a dream lost at dawn.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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