Tuesday, November 20, 2007

On the bed


The night started whispering
and the stars breathing
My naked eyes
and your naked eyes
Our twisted breath is like a hurricane
and the threads of the cover are warm
On my chest and on my back
Traveling on the island of clouds
Two hearts beating for the first time
and dreams are splashing on the bed
No secrets and no shame
Dreams without a ceiling
A painting without a frame
The night will never get old and our shadows will remain.

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