And I will go to a faraway land,
Carrying the verses inspired by your eyes
And the memory of your scent.

I need to return to the real—
To know life again, and heal.
Maybe distance will do me some use,
Without my sky, my sea, my muse.

I feel naked in the storm of my brain,
As my poems escape with the water from my eyes,
Forever lost in the drain…

My skin carries the stories foretold—
Symbols and dreams only we know,
Words touched by the tip of your soul,
Written in ink, scarred in red bold.