I find something new in a new page.
But I'm not ready to write something new.
Life is a new world page.

I see people.
I see myself.
I'm a part of them.
But they are not part of me.
I see their faces covered in masks.
Some are happy.
Some are sad.
I never know what they are feeling.
I also never know what I am feeling.
I see people around me.
I see myself surrounding myself.
I see them.
But they never see me.
I see myself.

No more time,
for us to exchange greetings.
And no more time,
for us to exchange words.

Can I serve you a delicious poem
in the plate of paper?
I will tell you.
This is a secret.
I can be your best chef.

I meet a woman in the story
I introduce myself as a writer
She introduces herself as the character I write about
She's so smart
I really like smart people
She tells about her life
She is happy to share every experience
She's so beautiful
She doesn't like the word beauty
Beauty only makes things that come to be gone
I understand it
I agree with her opinion
In the first paragraph, I introduce myself
In that paragraph, she also invites me to enter her world
I write about her
She accepts my writing
I write all about her
She reads herself
I continue to write the second paragraph
She says I need to stop
I ask, why?
She says she is tired
I ask her to rest
She agrees
I'm writing again
And I realize
She's just my imagination
I miss her so much
I've never done this before
And I go back to write about her
But I can no longer find her
She is no longer in my writing
I think too much about her

You choose to close your eyes and never see me.
I die in it.

Send me a true love
and I will pay it
because I never get it.