You will find me
I’d write you what I wrote to no one,
Not to the dead, nor to the living,
Not to the ones that were to be,
Nor to those who want to be,
But my thought in different parts is running,
Though I want to make you a serenade,
To Sing you whispers of my way,
On the strings of the guitar that cries in echo.
But it is not possible, I tell you!
And I picture you across that wall,
Because covered in pixels you are,
And it is sweet when you try to pinch;
Thousands of devils appear when you’re silent
And you provoke me not to like you.
If I was a nocturne butterfly
I would sleep forever on your lashes,
To explore you en detail,
To raise you from the purgatory to the heavens,
To disorder your dreams with peace;
Soft, when I will fly over your lashes
If I’d wake you, you will not even know
What witch did pass your bed,
What warm lips did bite you cheeks,
‘Cause it’s not my fault, but faiths’,
That showed you in my way.
And now it doesn’t want to give you,
If I would see you when you’d look
Do not whisper me lonely syllables.
You have to shut!
To be like two deaf-mutes
Which nights together did lose,
Closing the mouths together.
Come down from the heaven, you sweet seraphim,
And let me be as I am,
Now and for all,
And in all times. Amin!
author: Fred Fitzgeralnd Jr