My recent poems

She called me a dreamer.
She probably made fun of my poems.

She didn’t understand my friendship with penguins and Bedouins.

For her,

I am even worse than Don Quichotte,

Cause I’m fighting cold and rainy days on my own.

She ignored my loneliness.

But she doesn’t know one thing:

The most beautiful diamonds of the universe are shining alone in darkness.

For her, it’s night.

For me, it’s being myself.

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You!

The woman behind every poem!

Enter my dreams tonight.

Be a syllable on my tounge,

And the light on my eyes

When I wake up.

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