Of Muses And Other Ghosts
November And A Question
Those that can remain unmoved, by such a painless kiss,
untouched by such a soft embrace
their hearts are colourless, I feel
for someone forgot to give them a soul.
But it is in their palms, that your heart is stranded,
their lips you choose to touch
more than my lips, in the past were touched.
I fear that you have burned the ship, that sailed your kisses on their lips
and to me, none of them will return
in this life, that's kicking me from every side.
I have a question for you, now that you are so far away:
'Am I at least allowed to dream, shamelessly
of your undressed skin,
laying in my restless bed? '
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