She had a face of salt,
her features were fading away...

Do not read between my lines-
no more...

I will no longer write aloud.
This will be my last suicide...

Are we more than emotions and clay?
Flesh and bones...

Can one emerge so bold
from a fragile cocoon...

Were you near rebirth?
To dive in pure water...

It was a clear morning outside the yellow kitchen
when the grey weather foreboded mischief...

There are pieces of me
on the couch...

...and if you ask about my well-being,
I am floating over clouds...

Powerful like every natural thing
you were reborn in the form...

...but I was never a dreamer
until you puffed into me...

Embrace me to the soul
then ditch me boneless...