A Waltz For Zizi
Since I Sleep With Lips Untouched - Poem by A Waltz For Zizi
Which muse is this? , your tongue would want to ask,
the one with gold and silver eyes
and stars that shine, on her painted cheek
in a million shades of blue and pink...
pink? No, is not pink,
but green, from the reflections of her eyes,
Which one is it? , I often question myself.
A lot of details, pile one over another
as thick layers on a painter's holly art
and her image, I can't trully comprehend,
I must be either to close, or too far, from her
but is more likely to be far,
since I sleep with lips untouched.
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