It burns.

It rips the heart out.

Leaves a void.



The urge to jump on a plane,

to run for miles and miles

to overcome every obstacle

just so I can get to you.




The wind whispers your name

while the rain marks the beat.

The pulse of my vanes

screams :




When do I get to see you?

When do I get to talk to you?

When do I get to kiss your lips

and hold you in my arms?


When do I get to run towards you

to see your face, to….


When do I get to?




The touch of a chain

Bright dots watch, attentive.

Butterflies listen

in a continuous movement

here and there and here again.


The sky sings bright in the night darkness

and the melody

bathes the water

and washes away the pain.


The air smells like happiness

mantling everything on its way

and in a sweet embrace

releases the touch of a chain.