That naive lover

Who do you fall in love with? The body or the soul? If the soul, is it always of the person in front of you? or perhaps something else’s.

(3rd of my series – The visitor)


“Drenched in water, you rise, this fine chiffon subtly kissing your body

Wiping your face, fresh pink fingers grabbing those hairs off your face

Face fresh as a child, eyes big bright hazels,

Like painted by Picasso himself

Water droplets caressing your face, falling off this beautiful facade

Like they never wanted to leave it

Lips pink, luscious and fresh, eyes sparkling with those tiny droplets

Those eye lashes weaving into one another, with drops of pearl

Walking towards me, a spectrum of seven following your every step

You step out of the water, feet covered in sand, swinging your hair

A soft and warm touch, my face subtly, and you turn

Mesmerized I stand, my eyes shutting down with ecstasy

You were there before, I recognize you, in a different form

You disappear in this mist yet again, but your warmth remains, in my soul.”

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