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