We close ourselves inside
between our selves
we’re locking up
behind the mirrors
the most beautiful flowers in the world we lock
lest anyone should see our sensuous frailty,
the red of our velvet deep inside,
the fascinating sparkle of the black
into the core
cut through
by one thought only
so jealous, oh, from so much love.
Is it mine?
Is it yours?
What a gorgeous poem, Daniela. I enjoyed every line.
“so jealous, oh, from so much love.
Is it mine?
Is it yours?”
Beauty and ambiguity. Love it!
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Thank you, G! it’s just an old poem. 🙂
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