Monday, 13 June 2016

Neon








The street has no end, like this night sky.



You're floating on your own reflection. The soaked cement is a mirror.



Your face is shining. It blinks: fuchsia and black.



I don't want to walk towards you, because I'm afraid you're a picture made of fog and rain drops.



But I see your eyes. They trap the light like neon stars.



There you are
Hidden in the shining










 

Friday, 3 June 2016

A thought





Before you arrived in my life I would not have dared to have dreams.

The only problem is that you're now the most impossible one.