Happy tears. 

The most powerful form of crying. 

It was worth it, it was worth it, honey! 

Do as Romans do, 
Conquer me, capture my every muscle.
In stone, in marble, but never in bronze. 
In the late night rustle
In silks or nylons.
Do as Romans do. 
Conquer me, carve my tiny vessels 
From marble. 
Like Michelangelo. 
Like Bernini Lorenzo.

When the cherries bloom,

it does not matter whether 

it is by god’s will or by nature’s.

Maybe it’s random or maybe it’s doom,

maybe they work together.

Tiny paper boats
Soaked in melted snow water.
I don’t talk about loss.
I am my father’s daughter.

Tiny paper boats—
When I was little, I thought they just swam, endlessly.
Now this little girl knows,
They dissolve in water, they too have a destiny.

One two three

Banshee comes for me 

Four five six 

Save your tricks

Seven eight nine

Draw a line

Ten eleven twelve 

Dig and delve 

Thirteen steps

Who is next?

An abundance of love is, perhaps, all I could give to you. 

In Turkish delights,

In cozy nights, 

I just want to make you smile. Your smile. What a view. 

Love is a weird substance.

Made of sighs,

Joyful (sad) cries,

Happy eyes.

Sex.

The latter has minor importance

But feels good, brings balance. 

You are a comfortable silence. 

That first daisy. 

The sound of morning birds.

The whole world is crazy, 

If this isn’t love. No words 

Can help me say this, but I’ll try:

You are the pure bliss of a starry sky

For a child born in a big city. 

Oh, i do pity those, 

Who have never seen it,

Who will never feel that glee:

This sky might have no limit, 

But every star in it belongs to me.

Hello, old friend. 

They have given us a new command:

Blue on blue contact. 

What is it there, soldier, that you cannot comprehend?

Blue on blue. 

Good bye. Toodeloo. 

Old friend, I am sorry 

That I obeyed. 

I don’t understand why you like simple things.
My omelettes are quite simple:
Milk, eggs, some paprika, spicy chorizo rings
You eat it as if you’re in a Michelin star restaurant,
Every time, you chew for 10 minutes,
You smile and thank me as if I just saved your life,
As if you were the hungriest man on Earth. 
I smile back. I love making you happy—
So simple. You really overestimate its worth. 

Me frying up this mixture of things is an exchange
Of my simple human love. 
I guess you washing up the plates shows that it is a requited one.

I still desire to make it very clear.

To open up what has been bottled down. 

I feel contempt but have no fear. 

My truth is sharper than a spear.

Prepare for a fight till one’s knockdown. 

I want my name and body to be clear. 

I hope that you will shed a tear. 

I hope your grin will turn into frown.

I must remind you— I have no sympathy, no fear.

Now listen, you, my not-so-dear,

We’ll meet again, at midnight, downtown.

I’ll outline demands, I’ll make them very clear. 

I know that when I see you I will jeer. 

I’ve had so many years of you acting like a clown. 

I’ll be the one with laughter, you’ll be the one with fear.

I’ll see you soon. My not-so dear.

You’ll wear whatever, I will wear a crown.

I am the one who speaks the truth and therefore I’m clear.

You are the liar who should live in constant fear.

Two days old stubble, curls just covering your eyes. 

I think your eyes are brown. 

I speak, I nod, I’m yet to realise

I am about to drown. 

Three, maybe four days, same old stubble. 

I guess your eyes a lighter shade of brown.

I drink your wine that tastes like trouble. 

You look me in the eyes and at my skimpy dressing gown. 

Clean-shaven. Oddly satisfying.

Don’t care about the colour of your eyes. 

A mere hug, another boundary untying.

Your smell I now can recognise. 

Two days old stubble. I am yet to taste it. 

I’m here. Make me close my eyes. 

I am a sinner, but let’s face it—

The good ones rarely get a prize. 

I like clean-shaven, I accept the stubble. 

Like you accept pyjamas over a skimpy dressing gown. 

That bloody wine got me in so much trouble—

I know your eyes are hazel brown.