Not me, I’m lost at your fingers,
and won’t be back on my own in a lot of time.
Spitting my own dreams, my desires,
but may be I can get upstairs,
and climb your silent words.
Not me, but I can hear your voice,
imperfect, only a whisper,
filling some of my emotions,
my great and hidden fears,
too many to share and too few to admit.
Not me, but I’m still here,
may be lost, may be beaten,
but never defeated,
I’ll won’t surrender.
Walking, slow, no pause.
Not me, but I’ll never regret
the most impersonal distance
among us, how should I clear
a frontier, a fortified fence.
Not me, but may be you,
you’ll revoke some illusions,
in my deepest craziest nights,
following immune bites,
cleaned minds and wet smiles.
You’ll be there, not me.
Diving deep