In the middle of the night, nothing else but calm.
I like to think of myself like a freckle on your face -
one of many, but beautiful enough.
I try not to look too often at you,
but how am I to memorize the details that
construct you? -
the hair over you shoulder,
the eyes fixed on the guitar,
the hanging cigarette,
the smoke before your eyes,
those tender lines that define
the softness of you lips,
the innocent sincerity
of your arms, snuggling me tight...
In the whisper of the morning, nothing else but light.
And I like to think of you like an evershining star.