“Just”

I have nothing special to offer.

I am just a handful of stardust.
If I fit your sky, smudge me on it.

If you can dance to the music
that puts my particles into motion,
take me, lie next to me and melt
while it caresses us …

If you can hear my eyes whisper
like I can hear yours
put your arms around me and be.

If the night calls you to stare at the moon,
come.
Join me on the roof and talk to me
till the dawn comes and washes us away.

I am all yours.

I am the sky, the stars that reflect you.

“Fall”

She dropped of her
red dress and sunnish wreath.

Walked through the town naked.

Everything went silent.

Her body was steaming
as she swayed in the chilly, evening air.

I was left in the middle of
soft, scented fog
with a bouquet of dried roses.

Before washing away behind clouds,
in the dimmed moonlight,
I felt her silky lips
kissing me goodbye.

Magic got soaked back into the sky
to float among the star dust.

I will wait for you to make it rain.

Burned Roses

God loves his witches.

Listens to their prayers,
grands wishes.

Every fall drinks a cup
full of their tears, screams and whispers
and brings them back to life.

Decorates their paths
with rain of golden leaves,
baths them in the evening fog.

Women with burned roses pinned in hair,
eyes as cold and hypnotizing
as the moon enlightening the sky.

Each year they fall in love
with the sounds of wind
dancing in the streets.

God kisses them goodnight
blurring sweet, chilly air
on their tired faces.