Kiss her only if your gaze can open the gates to a fairytale realm
Kiss her only if your gaze can open the gates to a fairytale realm,
where your lips unravel mysteries hidden beneath the cosmic dust of time,
where her body is not just a sanctuary but a universe waiting to be explored,
where her tongue is an arena of silent conflicts, woven with the names of ghosts.
She has burned through her own essence, becoming human as much as the sky allows,
she has stitched her heart with threads of fury, closed wounds forgotten by other lovers,
spoken in undeciphered dialects, carving truth onto ancient walls,
if you don't see the poetry in her ruins, your presence is just a shadow in the wind.
Kiss her only if you have the courage to bear the weight of her name as a gift,
to bleed in the colors of her soul like an artist creating their art,
to have the devotion to meet her where she stands—unwavering, regal,
anything else is a lie, and she has swallowed enough illusions already.
She is both prayer and plague, a scripture demanding to be understood,
kiss her only if you have the heart to stay, to know all her faces,
to unravel her mysteries and embrace her shadows that dance silently,
for anything else is an empty promise, and she has lived through enough lies.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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