The Purpleman

I live anywhere but here:

The sweetness of fragrance of lilac,

The stray colors of the sunrise,

The children that gasp the same fresh air,

And her grass blue as the skies.

They all share the same

strengths and weaknesses.

The tenderness of kisses

And the warmest of embraces;

I solely believe your words,

Soft and vulnerable;

Your eyes are fragile…

I break them not,

And your visions of our existence…

There is passion in your voice,

I care not about what they say, or do,

or not say or not do.

But lest we never meet,

I will perish like sands in your hands

Washed away by the tears of the Earth.

Nurtured by melancholy,

‘coz I lie here in cold,

Lest we never meet.

Let me picture your face,

Your smile,

your lips,

and your eyes.

Let me picture a poet that had never had a soul.

Let the words fly like the winds,

With no life and meaning,

With no passion.