Can I tell you something?
Sometimes, you are a sheep...

May be I was a blanket for the sky:
obscure too dark... filled with light...

I bleed and bleed
from the bottom of my heart...

Honey,
when will be the day...

You are a rose that flourishes with love
Thus with this love, I plant you in my heart...

A man once said
the truth is...

On a fence made of iron a man hung his boot
he was tall with a beard that had grown to his...

You never wrote a sonnet on that thread
nor have you posted one in your account...

When your blankets refuse to warm you up
and your pillow stops letting you hug it tight...

I met you in a crowded room,
as crowded as the closet in my bedroom...

I’m a bubble
bubbly, bubbly...

Too thin to break
Too thin to be...