Complete

There’s nothing more complete than the scent of her hair or

the taste of her lips while gazing into her green deep eyes…

nothing more complete than almost touching her skin –

almost afraid that this connection might turn the universe

to chaos – eventually succumbing it in darkness…

He never kissed her – maybe he will – yet there’s no other

dream more sweet, more ecstatic, more thrilling than

foreseeing the duel between the roses and the perfume

of a live candle; before everything collapses to the final

look, than to the moments when two worlds collide

into one perfect and almost celestial unity…

And will not dare to touch, not breathe into her hair

And will not steal a kiss unless the chills…

unless they conquer even the smallest star

into her universe – her soul; unless the chills…

There’s nothing more complete than the scent of her hair